A Marriage Contract? Interesting
by fermica
Summary: Quite nonstandard, and definitely minus instant chemistry. Or perhaps even much chemistry at all. Events snowball after receiving a letter from the Greengrass family, and, unbenownst to our hero, the fight against Voldemort will take him to further extremes than ever before... T: minor explicit language and concepts Warning: Major trope subversion! Not for the fainthearted.
1. 1: The Letter

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works. This work is not for profit.**

Harry Potter sat facing the wall in his Grimmauld Place bedroom, pondering the events of the summer. The _Daily Prophet_ was slandering him everywhere, referencing attention-seeking in the Triwizard Tournament and other "dangerous tendencies" when expounding upon the incompetency of other people, even in the day to day news. One short piece about dark magic even brought up his ability as a Parselmouth, though that very same skill had stopped Hogwarts from closing and had saved Ginny Weasley. Not to mention that it had helped him stop the young copy of Voldemort who no doubt would have wreaked havoc on the world if their confrontation had not taken place. Not that the public knew about that particular detail.

Harry frowned. Dumbledore seemed to keep a lot of secrets about what happened at Hogwarts. Why did the man have to? Perhaps if Dumbledore had told Fudge, or even the Department of Magical Law Enforcement about Voldemort's activities after his supposed death, with evidence, they might have believed that he had resurrected during the summer. If only Dumbledore had done this before the press began to vilify Harry during the Tournament. And even now the man seemed secretive, avoiding Harry's eyes and brushing past him with nary a word.

He returned to his original line of thought: the Ministry was out to get him. Dementors came after him yet the creatures were still guarding Azkaban under control of the government. He snorted. When the truth came out, assuming neither the ministry nor Voldemort had yet managed to off him, they would come running back and elevate him like the sheep they were. His musings were brought short by the sound of footsteps and the creak of the door as it opened.

"Harry!" exclaimed Sirius Black, escaped prisoner and a man he loved like his father. "I'm glad the Ministry sobered up and gave you a fair trial. Unlike for some...," he trailed off, muttering. "But more importantly, Dumbledore has some news for you. Something... interesting in your lineage has cropped up," he stated, handing Harry an official looking letter with a broken Gringotts seal.

"Why does Dumbledore have my mail?" asked Harry curiously, slightly suspicious due to his previous thoughts about some of Dumbledore's mistakes.

"He was appointed your guardian after the war. The darker families who had aligned themselves with Voldemort would have loved to get their hands on you. And with my situation and that of the Longbottoms..." Sirius once again trailed off. "I am technically your magically legitimate guardian, being your godfather, but in the eyes of the Ministry it is the Headmaster, and so all your mail goes to him. There is a lot he has to filter, you being the Boy-Who-Lived and all," he added, seeing Harry was about to ask more. "You should read what the letter has to say."

Harry took the letter out of its envelope and read.

 _To the guardian(s) of Harry James of the House Potter,_

 _This notice marks the activation of a Potter-Greengrass marriage contract. As per regulations, Gringotts is required to notify the guardians of Mr. Potter of this occurrence. A meeting between the concerned parties should take place at Gringotts within a week of receiving this notice._

 _From the Gringotts Branch of Heritage and Succession_

"What?!" exclaimed Harry. "I'm getting married? How is this even possible? My parents wouldn't have... would they have?"

"Of course not, Harry," reassured Sirius. "But back in the day, even in more progressive families like the Potters, _purebloods_ would make agreements, usually selling their daughters off for political influence or gold. Every once in a while one hidden deep within the vaults of a family will activate for some reason hidden within subclauses and subclauses of the contract. How do you think Lucius Malfoy bagged my cousin? He didn't exactly have too many redeeming qualities, especially for a proud daughter of the Blacks. That doesn't excuse her from believing in Voldemort, of course."

"But... I wouldn't have thought... why now?" Asked Harry.

"Who knows, Harry, who knows. There are a couple of books in the library you could look at, though, about marriage contracts as well as goblin policies. You wouldn't want to get on the bad side of Gringotts," replied Sirius.

* * *

Harry sat up late in the library, surrounded by different editions of _Marriage Contracts_ _Through the Ages_ as well as _Goblins: Dos and Don'ts_. Hermione had passed through earlier in the day to criticize the barbaric traditions of the Wizarding World, provide moral support, and to try and find a way out of it. Even after looking through the entire copy of _Contractual Magic_ she eventually conceded defeat. He found it ironic that now _he_ was the one staying up to study. He supposed that being the sole person in the line of fire was a pretty good motivator for him to figure out all there was on the subject.

 _In seventeenth century, Lord Hadrian Black extorted the price of four daughters from the Peverells, having previously razed the family's holdings, causing a fire which swept through most of London during their infamous feud. Incidentally, Fiendfyre, as the cursed fire is now called, was the first use of magic other than the Unforgivable Curses to be officially banned by the Ministry of Magic, despite it being Black family magic. This is a perfect example of the most common uses of marriage contracts of the time: to make peace. The ban of certain family magics noted above was made possible because a mistake that Lord Black had made in not adding restrictive clauses about the dissemination and use of family magic, an essential component of all contracts afterwards. Lord Black is also distinguished as the wizard with the most wives ever, a total of nine due to previous contracts from..._

Harry shut the book here and sighed. At least the book about the rules the goblins must follow as well as wizarding conduct within Gringotts was informative. There really was barely any pertinent material in the other book, half of it being random historical information about certain families. He suddenly sat upright. He could look at books on the history of the Potter family as well as ask Sirius, who must have some idea about his best friend's family, considering that Sirius had run away from home to the Potters for quite some time. If he could understand what the circumstances would have been under which a contract would trigger only now, he could... he wasn't really sure.

But it was better to be informed, considering that this marriage could easily shackle him for the rest of his life. After the Goblet of Fire incident he hated being bound by unknown magic. Of course, from what Hermione could glean from her book, he could give up his family and associated magics to get out if the contract, but that would leave his gold, and more importantly, the artifacts and possessions languishing in the Potter vault, the last remaining connection to his parents, to someone else. Nor could neither Dumbledore nor he access it until he turned 17, so he could not make off with his family's possessions before disowning himself.

Perhaps he could lose his magic, for there exist a myriad of ways to do so. But then what was the whole past year for, then? And that hinged on the assumption that the contract required him to be magical. Though squibs were often shunned, only recently did they actually leave society. Usually they would be paired to another squib or to a magical as a concubine, like in the case of the youngest Peverell daughter and Lord Hadrian Black, for squibs could bear magical children. And in that case he would end up being the inferior one in the relationship, having no magic. Hadrian Black had used such contracts to his advantage, while Harry, a Potter and apparently the heir to the Blacks as Sirius has mentioned to him, was floundering. Hadrian Black won while Harry Potter-Black lost. Although Potter-Black sounded like a terrible last name, honestly. He already had heard enough long hyphenated names and titles in the Wizarding World; why heap another on top of himself? He was rambling, trying to distract himself from the major problem before him.

On top of all this, he had no idea of the political leanings of the Greengrass family, nor did he know whether they would follow Voldemort or at least let the twisted man have his way and then take his money. At least wizards didn't have life insurance. Although they probably should, considering the accident rates of wands. Harry caught himself. He was digressing again. Speaking of the Greengrass family, he should probably find a book on their public history as well. A well-informed family like the Blacks was sure to have many books on pureblood politics throughout history.

* * *

Sirius found Harry curled up with a copy of _Prominent Wizarding Families_ on his lap, opened to the Greengrass pages. He shook the boy slightly. "Harry, wake up!"

The last Potter jerked awake, knocking the book to the floor. "Hey, Sirius," he slurred groggily.

"It's time for breakfast. Come downstairs."

Sirius watched as Harry slowly rose from the chair he had fallen asleep in. "Don't you think you're overdoing this whole research thing?" he asked.

"No," replied Harry as they began to walk towards the stairs. "I do not want to be trapped again," he stated intensely, startling Sirius a little. As much as Harry reminded him of James, he also was very much like his mother often, perhaps out of circumstance. The emerald green eyes that reminded Sirius so much of Lily's when she became stubborn flicked to his and then glanced away. "I don't want to be a pawn anymore. Voldemort is back and doing Merlin knows what. I don't need another complication in my life."

"Dumbledore contacted Gringotts. You'll go Sunday with Tonks and Moody, although nobody is allowed to be present in the actual room except you and your magical guardian. I can't be present for obvious reasons." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

Harry shot down any hope of that rather quickly. "It doesn't make me any happier that you're trying to cheer me up by bringing up your status as a wanted man."

By then the two had reached the dining room and sat down to eat.

"Hi Ron, Hermione," greeted Harry. "Mrs. Weasley," he added as she came bustling out of the kitchen.

"You poor dear. I hope the Greengrasses don't hand you over to You-Know-Who the first moment they get. Are you sure you should meet them at Gringotts?" she fretted.

"Gringotts is neutral ground, Mrs. Weasley. I'll be fine. Besides, Professor Dumbledore approved of it, and I'll be going with guards," reassured Harry.

"Will you be able to handle yourself?" she continued, unwilling to be pacified.

"Yes," stated Harry, barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. The Weasley matriarch could be quite overbearing at times. "Sirius will make sure I know how to deal with the goblins. And I did well at my trial, didn't I?"

"I know, Harry dear, but I can't help but be worried."

"I understand, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you." With this Harry finished his breakfast and rushed back upstairs to the library.

"Poor dear," remarked Mrs. Weasley to Sirius. "He must be under so much pressure right now, what with You-Know-Who back and now this."

"Trust me, Molly, I understand more than anyone else. I just hope he can make it through the year, now that yet a third new factor has been introduced."

* * *

Harry walked down the path of Diagon Alley with Tonks at his side. Moody was already stationed near the entrance to Knockturn Alley under an invisibility cloak, ready to protect Harry from potential threats like Death Eaters. Not that Harry considered it necessary, seeing how Voldemort so far was laying low. But an undefended Boy-Who-Lived might prove to be too tempting a target, so here they were.

Harry pushed his way through the crowd, brushing past the throngs of people haggling with street vendors and making their way into stores. He was glad nobody recognized him, due to the slight glamor Tonks had placed on him. She had, after all, mastered stealth and disguise for her Auror training. It would be dispelled as soon as he reached Gringotts.

As he entered he read once again the warning at the front of the bank: "For those who take, but do not earn,/Must pay most dearly in their turn." Although he agreed with the sentiment, the cynical side of him noted bitterly that while Voldemort had taken everything from him, the man - no, the monster, came back again and again seemingly without repercussion, while fate continually screwed him over. When would _he_ be able to take control of his life, away from the shadow of Voldemort? The wizards only made everything worse with their stupidity, backwards ideas, and abuse of power. Who was the man who said that absolute power corrupts absolutely? Magic seemed to be practically limitless - immortality, transfiguration, conjuration. For that matter, why _didn't_ they help the Muggles, even if behind the scenes? Wizards were quite selfish, actually. Much more than enough to justify the goblins' warning.

The massive doors swung open and they were treated to the impressive sight of Gringotts' entrance hall. They walked up to an open counter. "Harry Potter," stated Tonks. "Here to meet the-"

"Greengrasses, yes. You stay behind. Mr. Potter, follow me."

Harry followed the goblin towards the back of the hall, where passages branched off, presumably to the Gringotts offices. He hurried to catch up. "Where _are_ we going, exactly?"

"Gringotts does not make it a habit of handing out free information to its potential thieves, Mr. Potter."

"But I'm not-"

" _All_ wizards are potential thieves," the goblin interjected. Harry remained silent for the rest of the time, until they came across a room with an ornate wooden door. "This is where I leave you, Mr. Potter." The goblin turned around and briskly walked in the direction whence they came.

Bracing himself, Harry opened the door and entered the room in which the rest of his probably very short life would be decided.


	2. 2: The Negotiations Begin

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works. This work is not for profit.**

Harry entered the room, filled with trepidation. The inside was quite plain, with natural lighting originating from somewhere he couldn't place. A small rectangular table sat at the center of the room, with another goblin sitting on one side, in front of large sheaves of papers and a pot of what he recognized from his studies as blood quills. Other than that, the room was empty. The goblin gestured at Harry. "Take a seat, Mr. Potter." Harry sat down awkwardly, facing the door. "When are they going to arrive?" he asked.

"They shall arrive shortly," the goblin curtly replied. Harry nodded and stared at the door. The tension in the room only seemed to increase as he waited, and he began to tap his foot impatiently. The plainness of the room provided him with no outlet either, so instead of looking around he ran over in his head how he should act in front of his future in-laws.

Finally, after an eternity of waiting the door opened and in came three immaculately dressed people. He recognized the adults from _Contemporary Wizarding Politics_ , and ceased his tapping to rise and greet them. "Lord and Lady Greengrass. And Miss Greengrass." He held out his hand to shake with Cyrus Greengrass, grasping it firmly before the four sat down. "Mister Potter," the man acknowledged back. He briefly met the cool blue eyes of Daphne Greengrass, a relatively silent classmate of his, before looking away towards the goblin when the Gringotts official began to speak.

"We are here to discuss the recently activated contract between the families Greengrass and Potter. Is there anything before we start?"

"No," replied Harry, just before the Greengrass patriarch stated, "Yes."

"Indeed?" questioned the goblin.

"I ask for a contract of non-disclosure between the two houses, so that any discussions that take place in this room remain private to the magical guardians of the betrothed. Such a... celebrity usually gets a little too much attention for my family's liking. We are a private people." Harry's eyes narrowed. With this, he wouldn't even be able to tell Dumbledore about the proceedings. They clearly figured that any and all possible magical guardians were dead or incapacitated like the Longbottoms, which would leave him at a severe disadvantage. "Any objection, Mr. Potter?"

Harry thought quickly. Though he would not be able to tell Dumbledore anything, he _would_ still be able to consult Sirius. If random pureblood history had taught him anything, it was that he should grasp any and all advantages he had. The Greengrasses did not know about Sirius, and so he would use that to his advantage. It probably wouldn't matter, but he might be able to contact his godfather during a brief break in the proceedings. He had a communication mirror on him in case of an emergency, and he could ask Sirius for advice regarding the negotiations which finalize the contract. Indefinite time marriage contracts were often very vague by necessity, so families would cede concessions to each other before agreeing on a finalized contract. "No objection."

"Very well." The goblin flipped through through the stacks of papers in front of him and withdrew an official looking form. He signed it before ordering the others to do the same. "Sign here." He passed the form to the Greengrasses. After quickly inspecting it each of them drew a quill from the pot and signed, wincing as they did. When they passed it over to his side of the table, Harry inspected it, making sure that he could discuss the negotiations with Sirius. He also noted that it was made so that it could be dissolved upon mutual consent. Harry then signed. The quill drew blood from the back of his hand, sending a sharp shoot of pain up it, but it was nothing compared to his scar around Voldemort, nor was it comparable to evil man's Cruciatus curse. Harry grimaced, but not out of pain. He could tell his life sucked when he could effectively compare large levels of pain and emotional torment.

The non-disclosure contract let out a brief flash of magic, signifying its acceptance by both parties. "Now, on to the details of the marriage contract," stated the goblin. "The contract was activated due to an as of yet unknown clause in this," he indicated, pointing to a decent stack of paper. "They needed _that_ much paper to formalize it?" asked Harry incredulously. Nothing in his readings had prepared him for the sheer immensity of an actual contract. "There are countless ways for magic to be used to exploit such contracts, Mr. Potter," said that Lord Greengrass, disapproving of Harry's outburst as well as his lack of knowledge. "Clearly our ancestors were intelligent enough to cover loopholes, and hopefully clever enough to ensure that such a union would be of _mutual_ benefit." Harry bristled at the underlying implication but remained quiet.

"As may know," here the goblin glanced at Harry, "the bulk of the contract is composed of countermeasures against exploitation as well as the activation clauses. The actual negotiation of specifics should a contract be indefinite is left for the later generations to further explicate. This, of course, includes legal guardianship, financial allocation, and anything not otherwise explicitly stated in the contract; in this case, only the bride price is fixed."

"The Greengrasses have already proposed a solution," the goblin stated, now looking directly at Harry. "Here it is."

Harry took it as well as a large copy of the original contract. "Do you mind a slight recess, so that I may look over these?"

"Of course," replied Lord Greengrass. "Go ahead," he stated, gesturing at Harry.

"Could you, uh, give me some time alone to go over it? It just... it's the rest of my life, you know?"

"Indeed. Daphne here has had similar concerns. Although you could have come to Gringotts earlier to get a copy of the contract."

"Err, yeah. Mostly the proposal I want to process. It's all going pretty fast."

The Greengrasses and the goblin stood up. "I guess we could go over our finances while we wait." He smiled.

"Gringotts will ensure your privacy while we are gone, Mr. Potter," added the goblin.

They left the room. Harry opened the proposal, which was quite standard. They would be his new legal guardians, have limited control of his finances to make sure he didn't squander, and would provide for him until their marriage which would occur by the winter solstice due to the dictates of the contract. But after that surely they could hand him over to Voldemort if they wished or were pressured to do so. While the Greengrass family did not exactly greedy, he got the impression that they would sell him out to save their skins. Perhaps that was Cynical-Harry talking.

Additionally, while he would not lose anything substantial financially, they would get the admittedly marginal political capital of the Boy-Who-Lived, marginal because of the current political situation. But should he be proven right, they would gain quite a bit. And if not, then from their perspective they would still get maybe a bit of backing from some of Dumbledore's faction, the ones who still believed in him.

They gained quite a bit from this, while all he got was risk and uncertainty. He opened the contract, a veritable behemoth of words, hoping to figure out just why he was placed in this situation in the first place. Flipping through the activation clauses, he found many phrasings equivalent to the idea of mutual benefit that Lord Greengrass had mentioned earlier. From what he could make of the complicated language other than that, it seemed to activate at the earliest possible date if not superseded by circumstances or other contracts, similar to other agreements meant to seal family deals or ensure future cooperation. Obviously circumstances had superseded its activation quite a bit, considering the circumstances under which it seemed to have been made and its relative apparent age.

Harry decided to call Sirius for advice, taking out his mirror. He rapped it with his knuckles and stated clearly, "Sirius Black."

Seconds later his godfather's face appeared on the mirror. "Harry! Are you in trouble?"

"No, Sirius, simply calling for advice."

"Should I get Dumbledore as well?"

"No, I signed a non-disclosure agreement to keep quiet about this from all but magical guardians. Guardians they assume I don't have." Sirius grinned at that. "And don't discuss this with anyone else. If you do, then _I_ might pay the price. Anyways, they want custody. Which I'm not sure we want, considering Voldemort."

"Agreed. But how would you convince them? And besides, the Dursleys aren't exactly good guardians."

Harry's face darkened. "While I agree, going to a family who might turn me over to Voldemort is a bad idea."

"You could try going for an oath to do things for your safety. Although this can be contravened by skewing their own perceptions of what is best for you and then handing you over. Or if you make it more restrictive, they would argue. The best thing to do would be to get them to specifically not sell you out to Voldemort. But if they were aligned with him they would just scoff at your claim of his resurrection and deny you this." He sighed. "I don't know, Harry."

"Could you look at the possible origins of the contract, based on the assumption that it would be satisfied at the earliest possible time? Get back to me on this - I think the break is about to end," Harry stated, as he heard a knock on the door. The connection went blank and he slipped the mirror back into his robes. "You may come in," he called to the people at the door. The Greengrasses and the goblin reentered the room.

"Do you find this to be adequate, Mr. Potter?" asked the goblin.

"Not quite," he replied, then figured that his only chance would be to directly state his concern. "I'm not too sure about the custodial issue," he stated.

"Why not?" asked Lord Greengrass. "Excuse me for bringing this up, but you are an orphan, and it is standard to give guardianship to the in-laws in this case."

"I want an oath to keep me safe," he stated bluntly. "After all, I have many enemies," he hinted.

"Absolutely not," spoke the Lady Greengrass for the first time. "To give up our free will - do you consider us untrustworthy? Or at least, do you doubt the mutual benefit conditions set down by our ancestors?"

"No - I mean - okay," he sighed. There was no convincing them to sway their position. "I guess other than that it looks fine."

"Let us quickly finish this, then. Sign here." The goblin handed the proposal to the Greengrass family and they each signed with a blood quill. They then passed it over to him. He read it over one more time, resigned to whatever destiny this would bring; there was no point stalling any further. Regardless of the original nature of the contract, something like this was unavoidable anyways. Then his mirror buzzed. He sighed again. "Sorry, give me a moment. My guardian seems to have something important to tell me, otherwise he wouldn't have contacted me. Please excuse me for a second."

"Use the room across the hall," the goblin advised.

He quickly exited and made his way to the other room. Once inside, he answered the mirror.

"Harry, I checked as you asked. There were around ten to fifteen times in the past century and a half when the contract would have activated, extrapolating from information left to me as the Head of the Blacks, a position I usually try not to exercise. Of course, with mutual benefit clauses it might preclude many of them. I'm sorry I can't tell you more, Harry," he stated, regret about his failure to find out more and about the whole marriage contract situation lining his face.

"It's fine. They didn't agree to the oath, as you predicted. It's useless to try and extract anything from them since they have a standard arrangement set up. It's fair in the long run, but I might not even live that long."

"Then go sign it, Harry. And be a little open-minded about this. It could be a curse, but this might turn out to be a blessing in disguise. Many beautiful relationships were formed through marriage contracts, as barbaric as they sometimes may seem."

Harry smirked. "Don't tell me you were referring to your ancestor, Hadrian Black," he stated, trying to inject humor into the situation.

"Of course I was, Harry," Sirius said, smiling. "One wife, eight concubines. Imagine the possibilities..."

"Goodbye, Sirius." He closed the connection, pocketed the mirror, and returned to the negotiation room. "There you are," said Lord Greengrass, a tad impatiently.

Harry frowned to himself. Now that he noticed it, the elder Greengrasses were rather unconcerned with a random marriage binding their daughter. It was politically advantageous, sure, but it was their _daughter_ , not a random stranger. He wouldn't prefer such cold guardians, although compared to the Dursleys he shouldn't complain. Yet... their daughter, Daphne, from what he could see slipping through a slightly impassive mask, seemed a little nervous and unsure about being forcefully married so young, a legitimate concern that he also harbored beyond the natural suspicion and fear for his life. They didn't seem concerned with the quality of her to-be groom, unless they had been covertly analyzing him this whole time. And from what he could remember from _Contemporary Wizarding Politics_ , theirs was a love marriage, not arranged or forced by an ages old contract. Wouldn't they care a little more about free choice for their daughter?

He sat back down at the table. Mutual benefit... how was he being benefited? Certainly his ancestors had made sure that this would actually be _good_ for the Potters. This was not very much so, unless they somehow were the best allies he could get for the fight against Voldemort. Somehow, he doubted that they would stand by him, based on his impressions of them.

He picked up the quill, poised to sign, then hesitated. Questionable benefit... wouldn't it have fulfilled earlier as Sirius noted, perhaps to tie the families closer or something? Magic may be many things, but it wasn't precognitive. Trelawney was a fraud... although he _had_ heard what he believed to be a legitimate prophecy from her near the end of third year. But to read this far into the future?

 _Contractual magic has limits defined not only by the agreements to certain conditions, but also by the amount of power lended to it to grant it the ability to carry out certain actions or evaluations of the current conditions, in the case of conditional clauses. Unbreakable Vows, for instance, use the magic of the bound to carry out any incurred penalties, which are usually self-inflicted._

Hermione's book on the Goblet of Fire as well as the magic of contracts literally _told_ him that this was likely impossible. The contract was limited by human foresight. The behavior of the Greengrasses the circumstances, the research... call him paranoid, but it all led to one inevitable conclusion, one he simultaneously hoped was true, yet wished for the sake of human decency was not. He almost didn't want to voice it, but it was either that or be bound for the rest of his life.

He forcefully threw down the quill. "Bullshit."


	3. 3: Aggressive Negotiations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works. This work is not for profit.**

"What?" All three Greengrasses were quite simultaneous in their exclamation. Harry narrowed his eyes. The girl seemed legitimately surprised, as did the parents at the surface. But Harry had been lied to his whole life by the Dursleys, in both big and small things. Heck, they'd tried to keep _magic_ from him. He had a large sample size from which to compare. And it was also just a feeling he had, an underlying certainty that he was correct. Furthermore, at the worst, he embarrasses himself. What was that compared to his life?

"I am not a fool, _Mr._ Greengrass, so do not take me for one," he stated coldly.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to get at, Mr. Potter."

"I may be many things," he repeated, "but I am _not_ a fool. It's a fake, a forgery. You swoop in and get the political capital of the Potter family, during a time when it is at its low point. An orphaned heir with no family, constantly slandered in the press. A relatively easy gain."

"Mr. Potter, I assure you that this is perfectly legitimate. Even if we do assume your foolish idea, how would we have gotten this by Dumbledore? Octavia and I had no idea before the letter came that-"

"And the goblins are in on this too, aren't they? How else would such an elaborate document be made?" Harry continued, brushing off the man. "And the non-disclosure mostly takes care of Professor Dumbledore. The rest is his often foolish notions of love and forgiveness, which all of the Wizarding World knows."

"Mr. Potter, be reasonable. What next of your conspiracies? Perhaps Grindelwald actually survived the end of the Great War?" the man scoffed. "I just don't want _you_ , through your actions, to accidentally harm my daughter." He softened. "Please, don't be unreasonable."

Harry had to admit, the man played a good game, unlike the Dursleys, whose body language gave away everything. Nor did the man bluster like Vernon. But his sixth sense told him to continue. "Don't lie to me."

"Mr. Potter-" started the goblin.

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" he roared, slamming his hands down on the table. Everything in the room rattled dangerously, making the other occupants of the room draw back in fear. He took a deep breath and settled down the raging magic around him.

The goblin shared a glance with Lord Greengrass. "You are correct so far," admitted the goblin. Daphne let out a gasp. "You would have handed me away? Me, your _daughter_?" she shrieked out the last line.

Lord Greengrass let out a sigh. "Daphne-" he started.

"Spare me the melodrama," interrupted Harry, still angry from the revelation that they were going to scam him.

"Very well," the man stiffly replied, and the family rose from their seats, Daphne still wearing a murderous look.

" _So if you seek beneath our floors_ ," muttered Harry, suddenly comprehending. " _A treasure that was never yours_ ," he continued, slowly increasing in volume, " _Thief you have been warned, beware, of finding more than treasure there_. Now wait just a minute, Greengrass," stated Harry.

"What?" asked the man, obviously still resentful of being called out on his duplicity.

" _Those who take, but do not earn, must pay most dearly in their turn_ ," quoted Harry. "Am I right?" he asked the goblin.

"You... are correct," answered the goblin reluctantly.

"Then you aren't going anywhere, Greengrass. The negotiations are not complete."

"I don't understand."

"Tit for tat, Greengrass. Tit for tat." Harry was quite cold; they had just tried to scam him into binding himself for the rest of his _life_. If they took an issue with his attitude... well, he took issue first. "You have wronged me, an heir to a Noble and Most Ancient House-"

"The Potters aren't a-" cut off Mr. Greengrass.

"Yes," agreed Harry. "But the _Blacks_ are." Seeing the man's shocked face, he continued. "Thought you could push me around with impunity, Greengrass? We'll keep this little detail between us. And you, too," he added as an afterthought to the goblin.

"A blood ritual?" asked the goblin curiously.

"When I was one. They didn't have time to register it with Gringotts." His face darkened as he remembered again the night that changed everything, fundamentally marking him forever. "Anyways, I think you guys already know how this goes. Hadrian Black set a precedent for paying back wrongs back in the day. And _you_ have already submitted a fake marriage contract... but the moment you signed your proposal you made it legitimate if I wish it to be."

The Greengrasses stayed silent, although Daphne kept shooting glances between Harry and her parents. "So essentially, I'm extorting the hell out of you." His eyes hardened. "You should have considered carefully before you decided to mess with me. I don't take kindly to those who wish to control me." Indeed, the Dursleys had quite well convinced him that he shouldn't let anyone push him around.

"Your claim must be verified," the goblin stated, pulling out yet another official sheet from the never-ending stack. It was as if Gringotts was prepared for anything and everything happening during negotiations, which, to be fair, was perfectly reasonable considering pureblood history. The goblin filled in the heritage form with the family name, 'Black.' "I need a drop of your blood."

He immediately stiffened. Voldemort had shown him just how powerful blood could be. "What for?" he asked suspiciously.

"Only a drop to verify that the blood ritual was indeed performed and to update the official records. After that, it shall immediately be destroyed." The goblin seemed almost... approving of his paranoia.

"Very well." Harry took the dagger that the goblin had procured from his vest while speaking and slit the tip of his finger slightly. Barely any blood trickled from the cut. He pressed the finger against the parchment and then lifted it. The parchment glowed briefly as he removed his finger. "Confirmed." He set down the dagger.

"Now that all this is over with, let's get down to the _real_ business of today. I'm tired of all the shit people have been putting me through. You don't screw with Potters. _Or_ Blacks. So she," he pointed to Daphne, "is now a concubine of the House Black. And I suppose I should ensure she still gets the proper inheritance of a firstborn child."

"Please, don't do this," entreatied Lord Greengrass. "My daughter is innocent of our crimes - we'll pay you, please, just don't punish her for this."

Harry softened. Then he considered the circumstances. People like Greengrass were scum, trying to manipulate children. This perhaps would make him no better. But then, when had fate ever given him the upper hand? If he passed on it now, who knew when he might regret it later. And most of Greengrass' pleading was probably based on the false assumption that he would use Daphne as a tool to sate his sexual urges. That wasn't him. When it came down to it, it was mostly that he needed all the allies he could get, forced or not. Money was not very material to him at the moment, nor was it binding on the Greengrasses. "I'm sorry," he stated, truly meaning it. "But I cannot do that. And before I forget, everything that happened and will happen in this room is not to be disclosed," he said, looking meaningfully at the goblin, who nodded at him. The oath of silence was still in effect.

"Please-"

"SHUT UP!" he slammed his hands down on the table again. "I'm tired of the Ministry's shit, tired of this _hero's burden_ I'm supposed to carry, tired of this war already. So just comply," he added tiredly.

"What war?" asked Lord Greengrass.

"As if you don't already know," stated Harry exasperatedly. "It's practically an open secret in your _social circles_ ," he sneered this part out, "that your _precious_ Lord Voldemort has returned." The family flinched at hearing the most feared Dark Lord's name out loud. "Scared sheep," he muttered.

It was the Lord Greengrass" turn to be indignant. "I am an honorable man." Harry snorted. "I have _never_ supported-"

"I don't care," cut off Harry. "Let us finalize this," he said, sitting back down. The other Greengrasses sat down as well, the females glaring at him and the patriarch simply resigned to whatever would happen, ironically, as Harry noted, quite like his own earlier attitude.

* * *

In the end, everything had worked out as he dictated, with clauses to ensure that he wouldn't suddenly get screwed over by them. The Greengrasses had, after all, proven themselves to be quite cunning. The only additional thing would be that after their marriage/contract fulfillment hybrid before the solstice, Harry would be Daphne's guardian, a euphemism for 'master,' really. Not that he enjoyed that position or anything. Furthermore, they would not disclose information of these negotiations or dealings in general at all. Harry stipulated this since he would rather Voldemort not know anything and not target the Greengrasses. As much as he didn't like the senior Greengrass, he did _not_ want innocents, like Daphne's younger sister, to die for no reason. The Greengrasses left, Daphne still icily glaring at him.

Now there was the matter of Gringotts colluding in this plot. "So, Mr. Potter, since we failed to pull the wool over your eyes, Gringotts is in your debt." That was how the goblins worked. If you could get away with it, it was valid, even stealing from vaults. Then they both respected and resented you. But if you got caught, which was practically equivalent to failing since even _attempting_ to rob the bank and making it out unscathed was quite an accomplishment, then the consequences were quite severe. Like being left in a vault for ten years.

"I will contact Gringotts whenever I think of suitable compensation for this heinous attempt to bind me, the Heir Black," he stated a little pretentiously, emphasizing just how terribly he thought Gringotts had screwed up. Reminding your enemies of their failures was another goblin thing.

* * *

The walk back out of Gringotts and Diagon Alley was uneventful. "How did it go?" asked Tonks.

"Technically, I can't go through the details of the proceedings. The end result was a little strange, I can admit. I can only actually tell Sirius anything, though." The rest of the walk was silent. When they had walked appropriately far away from the wards, they grabbed hold of a Portkey, which deposited them in front of Grimmauld Place.

When he entered he was again bombarded with the same question, even as Tonks knocked over the umbrella stand and set off the painting of Mrs. Black. "Nondisclosure contract," he answered briefly, brushing away the questions. "Can't really say too much."

He made his way directly upstairs, looking for Sirius. As he entered his godfather's room, he saw Sirius tending to Buckbeak. "What took so long after I contacted you?"

"We ended up finding a way to limit the extent of the contract, due to how vague it was. I'm barely bound at all. Most of it was nullified." He told a half-truth, unsure of how his godfather would judge his actions. "Nor are they going to be my temporary guardians anymore. I wrangled that out of them, somehow." And a lot more too, he mentally added.

"Well, that's good, Harry."

"Yeah. There'll be a sort-of-ceremony by the winter solstice."

"So all your research was useless," stated Sirius, smiling a little.

"It was not completely useless," he retorted defensively. Inwardly he noted just how useful it had been.

"Of course," conceded Sirius, still smiling. "I remember, in our last year James and I made fun of Remus because he actually studied theory for school." His smile faded. "There were more important things on our minds. They were dark times, Harry, just as they are now." He sighed. "But enough of this depressing talk. You deserve some time off."

"Yeah, I guess I do," replied Harry. Right before he left the room, he turned around. "Oh and Sirius?"

"Yes?"

"I need you to sign a contract stating you won't discuss what I tell you of the negotiations. I wouldn't want to face the consequences if you let something slip." The seriousness of the statement seemed to put a damper on the mood, so he left and headed down the stairs towards his room.

* * *

Harry sat late in his room, considering the events of the day. He never really had been too much of an introspective person, but his own actions had him thinking. He had managed to gain the upper hand, and in a fit of revenge, had turned the negotiations against the Greengrasses. Should he have been so forceful and quite cruel regarding the girl's fate for the rest of her life? Sure, the elder Greengrasses had tried to do the same to him. He used this reasoning to justify his actions earlier, along with the belief that it would be for the good of all, for any and all advantages could be used against Voldemort. Was Voldemort really his responsibility, though? And was he not simply treating other people as pawns to be expended on a chessboard, objectifying his living and thinking _fellow humans_? Was he not doing to Daphne what her parents were going to do to him, and what Dumbledore sometimes seemed to do as the man compartmentalized information and kept Harry isolated - for his own safety or something? He did not want to be dictated to; what right did he have to dictate to others?

Yet... he _knew_ , in his heart, that he was benevolent. He did not know this of the Greengrasses. All humans did not like to be treated like pawns because they have an inherent mistrust of whoever is in power, or anyone in general, really. Although this could easily be Voldemort's logic for controlling his followers and taking over the Wizarding World... the logic that he was right and everyone else was wrong... Harry stopped here. Trying to justify anything morally seemed circular. He would not be a bad person to Daphne, and _that_ was what mattered. Over time, hopefully, she would learn this fact as well. And really, what was her right to free love and marriage if it was under Voldemort? Or if she was dead?

But then, these questions could simply be excuses to bypass justification of his actions... Harry stopped here and decided to go to sleep. He was again caught up in the circle of morality.


	4. 4: The Hogwarts Express

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, nor is this work for profit.**

Harry sat in the empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express, smiling as he watched Sirius run down the platform in dog form. Ron and Hermione were in a different compartment with Ginny and Neville as well as another eccentric girl, Luna Lovegood, who was apparently a friend of Ginny. He could just imagine the tension between the logical Hermione and the strange, quirky daughter of the Quibbler's editor. He had left soon after Malfoy showed up with his standard insults, though. Did the boy really think he was so clever, knowing a secret that his daddy found out from Wormtail? If his family was actually clever, a twitch of the wand pointed at Padfoot and poof, Sirius Black was found by Lucius Malfoy, protecting many innocent wizards! Although the large cane made it pretty hard to conceal wand motions from the Order members. But still, certainly his wife could do that then. However, Malfoy bluster or not, he would have to reprimand Sirius for taking such a risk.

No, he decided, the Malfoys did not hold a candle to Greengrass when it came to cunning. The man had almost swindled Harry, and he was only saved by luck and his thankfully changed perspective on being proactive about the danger he will be placed in. He had managed to get some training from Sirius and Tonks discreetly over the summer, reasoning to them that Voldemort would continue to come after him. Knowing that the Trace was nullified by the wards around the house came as a surprise to Harry, too. Things like this could be useful for the next summer as well.

The door to the compartment opened, and the reason for his being stuck in the empty compartment at the back of the train entered. Daphne Greengrass. She was the girl over whom he had agonized over for the whole summer... and not just because of his moral dilemma. She had a graceful beauty to her, and that was hard to not notice, especially since they were being forced together, to a certain extent. The entire train ride, Dumbledore had decided, should be used to let them get used to each other. After all, it was the easiest place to do the introduction discreetly - Harry had requested that Dumbledore and his friends keep the contract a secret. The old man had even requested oaths of silence, apparently anticipating danger from the Greengrass front. It was true, Voldemort could try to coerce Daphne's family into doing something stupid, and even Harry was a little worried, despite the oaths that he had made Daphne's parents take. Thus to protect this secret, wards protected this compartment from the notice of ordinary schoolchildren.

"Potter," she acknowledged with a glare, then proceeded to sit as far as she could from him, which was not far since Dumbledore had specially had a small compartment used for the introduction. Clearly she was not over his whole 'forced concubine' arrangement. "Greengrass," he acknowledged, though without the venom of her greeting. Such hate would be reserved for the Greengrass patriarch, the manipulative bastard.

The compartment descended into an awkward silence, punctuated by angry glances at him from Daphne. Harry rested his head to the side and stared out the window, watching the countryside roll by and ruminating about the whole Voldemort situation. The powerful dark lord at times seemed to fear him for some reason. True, he _had_ demonstrated enormous and unparalleled willpower against Voldemort when their twin cores had connected. But even before that, Voldemort seemed very fixated on _him_ and his death, when it was in all probability something his mother did that protected him. Perhaps it was simply the psychotic man's ego, but at times it seemed like something more... He snorted to himself. What really mattered was that Voldemort would never stop until he was dead, and he needed to defend himself better during the eventual confrontation instead of hoping that someone would take care of the problem for him. Most wizards were scared of even the pseudonym of the hypocritical half-blood. Maybe he'd actually be able to escape because of skill, not luck. Somehow managing to defeat the evil wizard did not even cross his mind.

"What's so funny, Potter?" came the sudden question from the previously silent occupant of the compartment. He looked over and studied her face. She sounded quite bitter, which was to be expected, and resentment shone in her blue eyes. Harry could understand her feelings, really. And of course in her position he also be resentful, selfishly not thinking to see how this could help in the coming war. Probably all that stopped the Greengrasses from falling into line with the rest of Voldemort's followers when the war comes _was_ this arrangement. Until Voldemort killed him, at least, he would be helping that much more the Order by ensuring that the ancient family will not break its neutrality from the first war. Perhaps if he had not been so restrictive in his conditions, at least the elder Greengrasses would not hate him. Or if he had talked to them privately without Daphne, then maybe she wouldn't hate him either. Although lying to her, he felt, would just make it worse, all the more if she found out the truth.

"Just some gallows humor. Nothing much. Not worrying about the greatest Dark Lord in history or anything," said Harry sarcastically. The situation that Dumbledore had put them in on the train was only frustrating. Did he really expect anything productive to come of it? Still, Harry supposed that everything had to start _somewhere_. Just, he'd prefer not right now. Or ever.

He glanced over at her. "You know, we could both continue to be all self-pitying and silently stew about our terrible fate, lamenting how nobody could understand us, or we could stop whining to ourselves and accept whatever fate gives us."

This was her turn to snort. " _You're_ not the one bound to a man for the rest of your life. So stop trying, Potter."

This, for some reason, set him off. "What do you mean, _stop trying_? While you sit there and pretend that all I'm concerned about is _you_ , _I_ worry about larger things! You're only bound to this man for as long as _he_ lives and _he_ isn't living very fucking long! Voldemort won't stop until he kills me, because I defied him multiple times, both as a child and just recently. And then he won't stop until he conquers the world. Do you have the psychopathic, nigh-immortal, very powerful murderer of your parents out to get you? No? Right, because you _have_ your parents, you _have_ a happy little blissful and ignorant life, you _don't have_ a death sentence hanging over your head! And when I die within a couple of years, you can go back to your _goddamn_ manipulative family, become one of Voldemort's lackeys, live an untroubled life, and _be happy_!" Harry was breathing heavily by the end of his tirade. By this point, he resented her perhaps more deeply than she him, resented her for all the things she had and would have that he could never have, resented her for living the happy life he might have lived if it were not for Voldemort, Wormtail, and that fateful Halloween night.

Daphne, for her part, was staring at him with mouth slightly agape, wondering just how worked up _Harry Potter_ could get. He was known even in Slytherin, as much as they maligned him, to be more selfless than all of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor combined, yet his rant was quite self-focused and bitter. Only recently, at the negotiations, did she see the more cold and ruthless side of the Boy-Who-Lived. Clearly he had some serious issues that needed to be worked out.

Harry, on the other hand, was sorry he burst like that. His frustration was with Voldemort and a little with Dumbledore for not preparing him for Voldemort's inevitable return, something the Hogwarts Headmaster seemed to have known of. " _You_ 're not the reason you're here. Your family's allegiance is."

"I'm just a bargaining chip to be used as you please?" Daphne was indignant.

"Your parents were the ones who made you into one," Harry reminded. "Besides, I'm sure the moment Voldemort came calling your parents would have handed me away. There is more at stake here than just your life." At least she wasn't contesting his assertion that Voldemort was back. It was probably an open secret among those families, anyways.

"What? Like your life? What makes you any more valuable than me?"

"It's not just that on the line! Hello? Potions ingredients? Imagine if your family cut the supply to some people, or gave 'discounts' to Death Eaters. It's for the good of all of us that you're here and not out chatting with the next generation of Death Eaters!" This, at least, was the justification that had convinced Harry that he wasn't a bad person for doing what he had done.

"It's for the Greater Good, then? The needs of the many outweigh my own?

"Yes, it _is_ for the Greater Good!" Harry was quite frustrated at this point. Couldn't she see?

"Gellert Grindelwald used those words to justify his actions. He started the Wizarding World War."

The rest of the train ride continued in silence, Harry continuing to ponder how he could actually survive the whole Voldemort situation, as well as her words about Grindelwald. He wasn't evil like that man was, though. Unless... it was more of a slippery slope thing. While their conversation was a little interesting, and certainly therapeutic, he didn't really expect much personal connection with Daphne, considering that their relationship was more comparable to a master-slave relationship, only perhaps a little less authoritarian.

When the train reached the platform, he quickly exited from the compartment and met up with Ron and Hermione and the others from their compartment, and walked towards the carriages.

"Where did you leave to for the train ride, Harry?" asked Neville.

"I was in a separate compartment in case Voldemort attacked. There was a high chance he'd take a free shot at me." This was the agreed upon excuse he would make to anyone other than Ron, Hermione, and Ginny who noticed his absence. Since Dumbledore didn't want information to get out, it was simply a security risk to tell any more people than necessary.

"You didn't have to stay there alone."

"The compartment was, uh, kind of small. And I wanted some time alone. Voldemort, you know?" Harry floundered a bit for a good explanation, before settling with one that would explain anything. Dropping the feared Dark Lord's name was a good distraction. Not only that, it was also his second direct challenge to them about the elephant in the room: he was daring Neville or Ginny's friend to dismiss his claims of Voldemort's return like the Ministry did. Both of them, though, seemed to believe him on that.

When they arrived at the carriages, he was startled to see winged, skeletal horses pulling them. "What are those horses doing?"

"What horses, Harry?" asked Hermione. She looked at him a little strangely.

"The ones pulling the carriages. Why are they there?"

"I can see them too," the strange blonde stated airily. Her name was... he couldn't remember. "They're always there."

"I suppose the carriages wouldn't have places for horses if they just magically transported themselves. I never noticed that before. So only certain people can see these... invisible horses." Hermione was still a little skeptical of the existence of these horses, but Harry wouldn't lie about this, so she assumed that they were real. Harry grabbed her hand and brought it to one of the horse's leathery wings. "See?"

She was a little startled to feel something where she could see nothing, but conceded.

The carriage ride passed without event for Harry, who wasn't really focusing on the idle chatter that was going on. The shadow of Voldemort occupied his mind, perhaps too much. Yet the resurrection of Harry's nemesis put a lot into perspective. Harry already screwed one person's life for hopefully the greater good of everyone; already the war, though still in the shadows, took its toll. How many more difficult decisions would need to be made? How many wrong ones would end up implemented? He did not want to become like Grindelwald. And, furthermore, how much of his life would a new war occupy? Perhaps he would end up fighting for the rest of his life against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Not that this statement meant much, considering Voldemort's unhealthy obsession with him and his death.

They arrived at Hogwarts, and Harry quickly found Professor McGonagall. "Professor, do you think I could speak to Professor Dumbledore after the feast?"

"I am not sure, Mr. Potter. The Ministry is trying to keep a closer eye on the Headmaster for some deluded reason. As a result you may not be able to meet him soon. What was it you wanted to ask him?"

"I was wondering if I could get access to the Restricted Section to actually prepare myself for Voldemort. And maybe I could be trained? Voldemort seems to have it out for me."

"I do not think it will be possible for any of the teachers to train you now." When Harry opened his mouth to object she added, "I did not want to say this, Mr. Potter, but simply put, the Ministry thinks the Headmaster is training an army of students at Hogwarts. While ridiculous, it precludes us teachers from helping you. I will make sure that Madam Pince grants you access to the Restricted Section, though, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Difficult years lie ahead, Mr. Potter. It was the least I could do." As Harry turned to leave, she added, "And Mr. Potter. Stay away from the darker books of the Restricted Section." Her gaze softened. "I don't want yet another promising student to go wrong. In the end, though, your path is based on your choices, not what knowledge you possess. Younger students are not mature enough to handle this choice, but you have shown yourself to be, Harry." She reverted back to her stern expression. "Choose wisely, Mr. Potter."

With that portentous warning, Harry entered the Great Hall and sat down at his usual place at the Gryffindor table, joining Hermione and Ron, who was as usual waiting in anticipation for the upcoming feast. Harry looked up to the Head Table to see who the new Defense Professor was. When his eyes reached the new Professor, he was quite unpleasantly surprised. The same toad-like witch in pink from his trial was sitting calmly. He narrowed his eyes. Professor McGonagall seemed to be correct about the Ministry; why else would Dolores Umbridge, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, be the replacement teacher?

If there was one positive thing, then based off of previous history she wouldn't last more than a year. Although, he should keep a close eye on her, considering the previous Professors. At least, however, he was already wary of her.

The Sorting progressed as usual, and Dumbledore gave the typical announcements about the Forbidden Forest and about Filch's never-ending and ever-increasing list of banned items. Dumbledore introduced Professor Grubbly-Plank, who would substitute for Hagrid. Sirius had already told Harry about the efforts of the Order to ensure the magical creatures would not support Voldemort when the inevitable war comes. "Why's Hagrid gone?" whispered Hermione.

"Tell you later," he whispered back.

When the new Defense Professor was introduced, she naturally had to interrupt. "Hem, hem." After practically forcing the floor from Dumbledore, she went into a long speech which was quite obviously Ministry propaganda.

Finally the speech ended. "Now, let the feast begin!" proclaimed Dumbledore. As he clapped his hands, food appeared on all of the gold platters, magically transported by Hogwarts' legion of house elves. It was quite an ingenious system which never failed to impress. Not that it was actually possible to conjure food out of nowhere.

"Harry, the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts," stated Hermione grimly as the feast began.

"Of course," he replied. "I figured out that much from the speech."

"I thought you two wouldn't actually listen to her - listen up, Ron!" she smacked the ginger boy who seemed focused on stuffing his face more than worrying about the perils of the upcoming school year. Times like this made Harry wonder why he and Hermione even put up with the boy. It was probably the shared experience of their first year, he decided. Was either Ron or Hermione, though, actually mature enough for the coming war? He had been scarred enough by Voldemort as well as his loveless childhood for a lifetime, and it was pretty terrible. He would think on this later.

"- do they even think they're trying to accomplish, honestly, sending that woman here to teach?" Hermione was still ranting.

"We get it, Hermione. Seriously." Ron finally silenced her, then went back to eating.

Hermione was a little indignant at his remark, but Harry quieted her by putting his hand on her shoulder.

The feast passed, and each of the Houses got up and moved as a large congregation towards their respective common rooms. As they went, they trailed behind the main group as Harry detailed exactly why Hagrid was gone, telling the rapt Ron and Hermione in a hushed voice about the efforts of the Order to undermine Voldemort's method of recruiting.

They finally entered the common room after Hermione uttered the password for the stragglers at the back, which incidentally was the name of Neville's new plant, _Mimbulus mimbletonia_. From there Hermione split off to the girls' dormitory, while Ron and Harry made their way up to theirs.

Seamus was already there, lying on his bed, and when he saw Harry, he looked away and shut his curtains. "What just happened?" asked Harry, a little confused by what had just transpired.

"No idea, mate," replied Ron.

Usually Seamus would at the least greet Harry. Now all he got was quite a cold reception. Their relationship had not changed one whit over the summer, though. Unless Seamus actually believed the crap they shoveled daily in the _Prophet_ , in which case, Seamus was better off being an ostracizing moron.

Harry went to sleep soon after that, still troubled by the antics of the Ministry as well as those of Voldemort, or rather the lack thereof in the latter case.


	5. 5: Ministerial Authority

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, nor is this work for profit.**

In the morning, Harry quickly got ready and gathered his belongings to go down to breakfast. First came the inevitable confrontation with Seamus, though. "So. Seamus. Nice to see you around."

"Hello, Harry." The reply definitely had a hostile tinge to it. Someone indeed was reading too much of the _Daily Prophet_.

"You know, my mum didn't want me to be here this year."

This pissed Harry off. Shouldn't at least his _dorm-mate_ know that he was not destabilized? "Right," Harry ridiculed. "Your overprotective mother too afraid the big bad Boy-Who-Lied is going to corrupt your thoughts and inner being? Perhaps she _should_ have gotten that transfer to the Young Witches Academy pushed through. I'm sure it would fit you well."

"Don't insult me," angrily stated Seamus.

"Well, if you didn't take every word of mummy's _precious Prophet_ as gospel I might just do that. As it is I'm tired of you stupid sheep." Perhaps he was being too harsh, but already he was sickened by and fed up with the looks and glances, the whispers from everyone else even only in the Opening Feast. Seamus was a convenient target to unload all of his uncontrollable anger.

"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that!"

"Whoa, mates, break it up." Ron intervened. "You don't have to agree with each other to room together." Actual words of wisdom from Ron! The world seemed to be turning on its head, mused Harry, or perhaps this was his cynical side emphasizing everyone's faults.

"Do _you_ believe the rubbish he says about You-Know-Who?"

Ron shifted slightly. "It shouldn't matter is all I'm saying."

"I think we're too far gone for reconciliation," Harry coldly stated. "Not that I _would_ reconcile with a loser such as yourself," he remarked to Seamus. He had decided on the train that he would _not_ put up with anyone's crap about him being a delusional liar. They would believe them or they would be idiots. Although, beneath the surface, he still felt righteous indignation growing. Couldn't they _see_ that by sticking their head in the sand, by willfully believing in their ignorant, perfect world that they were doing far more harm than good? In the end, they would all come flocking back, but he would still be unsatisfied, even though he would be vindicated. How much harm will this cause? Couldn't he convince people _somehow_?

With that proclamation he made his way out of the boys' dormitory and towards breakfast, Ron trailing behind.

* * *

The Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor - no, the _teacher_ , for she did not warrant any respect, he had decided, was absolute shit at everything really. She probably bribed and blackmailed her way up the Fudge Administration; she literally had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. He was currently sitting in her class, bored to death and pretending he was reading the crap she called a textbook. In actuality, it seemed to be more about the author's narrow-minded views on magic more than anything else.

Hermione raised her hand, trying to get Umbridge's attention, probably to ask why they weren't learning anything in the class. This would not end well. It was clear that the woman had no intention of teaching. He would rather not Hermione stir up the hornets' nest.

"Hermione," he warned, but even as he did so Umbridge acknowledged her.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I was wondering about your lesson plans, Professor-"

"Have you read the chapter?"

"Yes, I have and I was wondering-"

"Then read the next chapter. It is not your job to teach the class, Miss Granger." She tutted.

"I've already read the next chapter, Professor."

"Then-"

"I've read the whole book. I was wondering, Professor, where in your lessons we would learn to actually _use_ magic." The silence in the classroom grew much more noticeable. Harry just _knew_ that this would not end well.

"Miss Granger, I cannot imagine that we are going to be attacked in class. There is no need here to _use_ a defensive spell, Miss Granger. I assure you that with the proper theory you will be able to use magic perfectly well."

"What about our OWLs? Will we be performing some spells for the first time there?" piped up Parvati Patil.

"Raise your hand if you wish to speak in my class, Miss -?"

"Parvati Patil. What about our Defense practical? How will we perform spells without ever practicing them?" she inquired.

"Miss Patil, with the proper foundation of knowledge you will be able to perform admirably. Besides, why would you feel the need to practice these spells, hmm? The Ministry can keep its citizens perfectly safe from harm, I assure you. While some... _malcontents_ would claim otherwise," she continued, staring at Harry, "the Ministry has done so perfectly well in the past and will continue to do so in the future."

Hermione opened her mouth to object. "Hermione," Harry warned again, even though he was also itching to show up the Defense teacher. She took the hint and remained silent.

"There. The rest of you, continue reading the first chapter of Slinkhard's _Defensive Magical Theory_. Miss Granger, you may review the book for the remainder of the class."

When class ended, as Harry walked out he noticed Umbridge watching leave with a smug smile, presumably pleased that he had not objected to her curriculum and that he had remained submissive during the class.

The moment they got out, Hermione began her tirade. "That woman, what does she think she's actually teaching? The Ministry is going to sabotage all of our grades during OWLs year just because of their delusional-"

"Hermione." Harry once again silenced her. "Instead, you can study outside class in the library. Objecting to Umbridge's practices is only going to make her crack down harder and sooner. The Ministry thinks they can control us, that they can keep me quiet. And, truth be told, they can."

"You're making them sound like some sort of _1984_ authoritarian government!"

Harry didn't quite get the reference, but continued anyways. "Quiet, Hermione, and think," he hissed. "They monitor underage magic, are influencing Hogwarts, have all sorts of magical power and influence that affects society in ways the Muggle government simply cannot. They _control_ the Floo system and monitor Portkeys. They control the news, and as we've seen in the events surrounding my trial, are corrupt. They sent _Dementors_ after me, I'm sure of it. I don't think that was Voldemort; if it had been, he would've attacked the Hogwarts Express as well. You're intelligent, Hermione," he continued. "You know much more than I, but just look around and tell me that they aren't like that, that the Ministry isn't as authoritarian as I make it sound."

Realization dawned on her face. "Then what do we do? We can study outside of class, but with everyone's current mood nobody else will be prepared for the war!"

He was glad she understood. "Keep our heads down. Play by the rules. But all the while prepare quietly. You can get the word out to those who believe me, that they need to prepare and always be vigilant. Voldemort has been quiet this year. He isn't like this; I know from experience that he's impatient. Perhaps he's just milking the current situation, but I bet that if he could take over then he would have already. He's no patient man. What is he doing?"

"I don't know, Harry. Nobody does. So, do you want to go to the library right now?" she asked, also glancing backwards at Ron who was walking behind them.

Ron raised his hands up. "I'd rather not go to the _library_ , of all places. Harry, you up for a game of chess in the Common Room?"

"I'm fine, Ron. I think I'll go with Hermione to the library." Preparing for the war was _right_. Playing games and trying to live a carefree life was _easy_. This was his choice, there was no turning back.

"I think I'll go up to the Common Room, then." Ron split off in a different direction.

"So I managed to wrangle a free pass into the Restricted Section from McGonagall," remarked Harry casually.

"Really? Not even Madam Pince lets me in without a teacher's permission. There are so many books that I could-" she gushed.

"Yes, I know," he smiled, amused.

"How did you manage to do that?" came the sudden question.

"What? Oh, I just asked her if the teachers could help to continue my training, you know, because of Voldemort. But due to Umbridge and the Ministry, that won't happen, so this is the next best thing," he finished.

"Continuing your training?" she asked, suspiciously.

"Yeah." He shifted. "Sirius and Tonks discreetly gave me some training, you know, on the side. Fighting training, because Voldemort's always after me. They don't want to just throw me into the deep end when our inevitable confrontation occurs. Turns out, the wards around most wizarding homes nullify the Trace system."

"What?" she shrieked. "That means that I could have spent the whole summer practicing for OWLs, or doing spells! And doesn't that give an advantage to the wizardborn over the summer?"

"As if most of them actually practice over the summer. And it technically still is illegal, it's just that the Ministry can't track it. The parents are supposed to be responsible for that sort of thing."

By then they had reached the library. Harry walked up to Madam Pince's desk. "Professor McGonagall told me I would be able to access the Restricted Section." This was phrased more as a question.

The strict librarian looked up. "I don't remember her giving permission for Miss Granger."

"I don't think you really need to worry about her damaging the books," he remarked.

"Very well," she conceded. "But don't remove the books from the section, and do not damage them."

He walked over to the door to the Restricted Section, Hermione right behind him. He opened the door, wincing at the creaking it made as its rusty hinges turned. They walked in together. "So," he turned to his intellectual friend. "Where to begin?"

* * *

Harry sat at a table with Hermione, reading _Battlefield Magic: A Survivor's Guide_. His training with Sirius and Tonks had been both on awareness and reflexes as well as more focused casting. By focusing his intent more along the lines of what he _wanted_ his spell to do, his spells became more focused and dark, more suitable to actual combat than the weak jinxes that Hogwarts students preferred to toss around. This book in particular reiterated a lot of points and tips that his godfather gave based on experience from the first war. Regardless, it also had fundamental curses and countercurses that one might expect on a typical battlefield, along with colors, recognition tips, as well as instructions as to how to cast the spells. It also had a healing section devoted purely to battlefield healing. It was, after all, a "survivor's guide."

"Why are you here?" suddenly asked Hermione.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're usually off with Ron playing chess, or Exploding Snap, or _flying_. Why are you here, and not with him like always?"

Harry sighed. "There are a couple of reasons. First and foremost, I did those things because of Ron. He's my friend, right? But recently I've not found as much... use in these things. Voldemort's out there, he's out there unable to accept that _I_ , a Hogwarts student, managed to defy him. I escaped that day in the graveyard. I escaped, but it was a rush of perspective. To what do I owe my life? I owe it to the arrogance of a Dark Lord, to his amusement as he _played games with me_. I should have died, but did not. It's the least I can do to make sure it won't ever again be as one-sided as it was that day."

"How can you hope to stand up to _him_? Him, the most feared and greatest Dark Lord since Grindelwald? What would this really accomplish?"

"That's the kind of thinking that got me in that position in the first place, Hermione. I was lazy like Ron, lazy and short-sighted. But I learned another thing that day in the graveyard. I haven't told anyone but Dumbledore and Sirius the exact events of that night, and maybe Moody knows it too, but as we dueled, our wands connected for a bit - he cast the Killing Curse, I the Disarming Charm. It was a battle of wills, brother wand versus brother wand." Hermione looked like she wanted to say something but she didn't.

"Yes, I know, a spell _Lockhart_ of all people had taught me, against _that_? Against _him_? What was I thinking? I fully expected to die in that moment. And then the wands connected. Me versus him. He told his men to stand back, that it was _our_ duel to finish. It wasn't a test of magical strength or even ability. It was a test of _willpower_ , nothing else. And I won. I won. Me, against Voldemort. I- I saw my parents," here he choked a little, "and they told me- they told me to break the connection, to take Cedric' s body and run. So I did." He finished his tale.

It was therapeutic to release all of the issues he had to someone of his age, and to someone who could perhaps _understand_ what he was going through. Not only that, he had someone who could vindicate his ideas.

Hermione was looking at him with respect and maybe a little awe. "That was really brave of you, Harry."

"Thank you." He sighed. "I just don't want anyone else to have to go through what I did. That's why I'm so pissed at all those people who believe the lies in the _Prophet."_

"...Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I was thinking... the Umbridge woman doesn't seem like she will teach anything useful, and it's our OWLs year - maybe we could start some sort of school defense club, and you could teach. You're the most experienced against Voldemort of all of us," she hastily added when it seemed like he would object.

"I guess this is a good idea," he conceded. "We could also use this to get the word out, and help people protect themselves and their family. We'll have to plan it out in detail, though."

"Of course! I'll help with the logistics. You just need to teach and do your thing."

They continued to read their respective books, each desperately trying to prepare for the upcoming war.

* * *

 _"Reducto! Reducto!"_

 _"Stupefy!_ "

Harry took a deep breath, resting from the constant drilling he and Hermione were doing. After leaving the library, they had claimed an abandoned classroom on the seventh floor and were simply blasting away at the desks they had lined up against the wall as quickly as possible and with as much power as possible. Harry's spells, due to his previous training with Sirius and Tonks, were dark and well-formed. Hermione's, on the other hand, were more feeble and less concentrated. She was wasting too much on each spell.

Harry was currently trying to continuously cast for as long as possible. This would build stamina, which in turn would help him with situations like when the brother wands connected or when simply trying to out-duel another opponent. This training method was recommended, but as long as he did not become too magically exhausted and as long as he ate well he would be fine. Hence, he was practicing with Hermione to make sure he didn't do something stupid or push too far.

"Okay, new drill. You fire spells at me until you hit me or until you feel too tired to go on."

"Are you sure we need to do this much, Harry?" she questioned.

"Yes," he firmly replied. "It is absolutely necessary. Now hurry up!"

She began casting the stunning spell towards him as quickly as she could, and he began to dance around, narrowly dodging spells.

After training, they came down to dinner, barely making it on time, and quickly stuffed as much food as they could. Harry's version of training left them both very tired, physically as well as magically. "Tomorrow," began Harry, "we get up early and take a jog."

"Isn't this a bit much, Harry?"

"Not at all," replied Harry. "Most wizards, especially the pureblood Death Eaters, are not that great physically. They use brooms, apparition, and Portkeys to get around. We need every edge against them, for they have experience and we don't."

"One would think that they would be physically fit. Aren't the Aurors well-trained like that?"

"Believe it or not, Aurors don't need to run much or anything. The more elite keep in shape, simply on principle, as well as most of the Order. I asked Tonks about this. It's generally accepted that if you can't do magic, then you're screwed anyways. Thus, keeping your wand is the most important thing to do. And further, wizarding fights are quite honor-based. They usually are just a bunch of duels put together, with minimal crossover. This is because usually the offense of your opponent is enough to occupy you fully. It's all in the book I was reading."

"That's fascinating. I prefer to read more about spells and casting, though."

"That's perfectly fine, as well. Come on, let's go up to the Common Room."

"You know, there was this one dark curse I read about, called the Flame Cutter..."

Harry listened as she explained the effects of the curse as well as the standard counter to it, all the way up to the Common Room

"...The interesting thing, though, is that it's a completely silent curse. No incantation. It would be interesting to learn non-vocalized magic..."

 _"Mimbulus mimbletonia,"_ stated Harry, and the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room swung open.

They walked in, and then Harry stopped. In the corner of the room, Ron and Seamus were laughing over a game of chess. "Well, look who's having fun," he remarked to Hermione.

Ron turned around, having heard someone entering the Common Room. "Oh, uh, hey, Harry."

"Hello, Ron," replied Harry, a little angry that Ron would even tolerate people like Seamus. Then again, he shouldn't dictate who Ron can and cannot socialize with.

"What's the problem?" asked Hermione.

"Seamus' mum reads the _Daily Prophet_ religiously, that's what," stated Harry flatly. "I guess Ron should have the freedom to choose who he hangs out with, but still. I guess he doesn't want to be stuck in my shadow- again. To some extent I can't fault him for it. That doesn't stop me from getting pissed. He never really was the best friend to us, was he? Is what he's doing right or is it easy? Anyways, I'll see you tomorrow morning, Hermione." With that he ascended the stairs to the boys' dormitory.


	6. 6: Sirius Matters

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, including any content from _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ , recognizable or not. This work is not for profit.**

Harry decided that life hated him. Or, more accurately, Snape did. The moment class started, the Potions Master swept into the room, robes flowing. After giving the usual speech about how much of a group of morons they were, plus what Harry could only interpret as Snape rejoicing over the fact that he would no longer be in his class the next year, the vindictive man continued, "In the Headmaster's spirit of inter-house cooperation," he sneered at the words, "each Gryffindor will be paired a Slytherin for the duration of both terms. Should any unfortunate _accidents_ ," here his gaze settled on Harry, "occur, these may be changed." He then read out the pairings.

"... Weasley, you're with Malfoy, Granger, with Parkinson, Potter, you're with Greengrass." Here his face twisted into a smirk.

"Well?" he sneered. "I don't have all day to hold the hands of you dunderheads. Form your groups and begin working on the potion on the board."

Harry was pretty sure Snape was in on the secret - Dumbledore told his pet Death Eater everything. He felt fortunate that Dumbledore had taken the extra step of swearing to secrecy everyone 'in the know,' else Voldemort no doubt would already know of the arrangement. Snape probably took a vindictive pleasure in putting Harry into awkward situations - no doubt the man was betting on there being a tense relationship between him and Daphne. There was. Or perhaps Dumbledore had put him up to this, considering the whole 'inter-house cooperation' thing... but the man still took pleasure in Harry's discomfort.

"Potter."

"Greengrass." Again they had hostile acknowledgements of each others' unfortunate existence.

"I'm not going to put up with you being a moron, Potter, so just do exactly what I say."

"Should I have added provisions against 'ice bitch mode' in our agreement? Probably," added Harry sarcastically.

"Just shut up, Potter, before I use this knife on you."

"Isn't that against the arrangement?"

"Just shut up, Potter." Harry continued to curse Dumbledore and Snape mentally, as well as himself for even thinking that he could put up with this woman.

The rest of potions class passed with many incidents, although somehow they managed to scrape out a passing grade. Then again, Daphne _was_ the daughter of a potions magnate. And at least Snape wouldn't purposefully give one of his Slytherins a failing grade, gratefully noted Harry.

* * *

At this point, Harry was cursing Dumbledore and Dumbledore alone for being such a manipulative bastard. He was in Care of Magical Creatures, and they were working with bowtruckles in groups of three. Naturally, though, Dumbledore's hidden agenda had to disappear.

Professor Grubbly-Plank had outlined the goals for the class, and then she spoke. "The Headmaster has asked each of us teachers to help promote cooperation in these dark times. As a result, all group work in this class will be in fixed triples throughout the term."

And, of course, the inevitable had occurred: "...Harry Potter, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis is our last group. Break up and start working."

"Screw you, Dumbledore," he muttered.

"What, Potter?" Tracey Davis had unexpectedly turned up behind him.

"Oh, nothing, Davis. Never you mind. So," he said, seeing that Daphne had shown up, "shall we get started?"

The work was quite slow, mostly because the bowtruckles were resisting their every move. "I wonder where the oaf went off to," commented Daphne suddenly, probably prompted by some of the taunts Malfoy was trying to anger Harry with. Trying to, because each time he said something degrading, Harry just reminded himself of how stupid the Malfoy heir actually was.

"The _oaf_ is my friend," Harry replied coldly.

"I'm not sure _why_ he is, honestly. He doesn't seem to be good for anything, really."

It was clear that she was trying to bait him. Well, he could always play the 'I was orphaned as a kid' card. "He also rescued me as an infant from the smoldering remains of my destroyed house," he continued. Not strictly true, since Sirius was the first on scene, but nobody actually really knew that, so he was safe from fact-checking. "I personally think he's a great man," he added, daring either of the two to disagree. They didn't. After all, how could they follow up after that?

After turning in their completed drawings of the bowtruckle, Harry joined back up with Hermione and Ron to go to Herbology. After an encounter with Luna Lovegood, where she reaffirmed her belief in Harry's story of Voldemort's return as well as Crumple-Horned Snorkacks at the same time, they entered the greenhouse.

Ernie Macmillan also supported him, a pleasant surprise. "I want you to know, Potter," he practically announced to the whole greenhouse, "that my family has always and will always stand behind Dumbledore. I believe your story."

"Thank you, Ernie," replied Harry sincerely. "Pass on this message to those who believe my story." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Hermione and I will be organizing something for defense outside of classes. Meet us at the Hogs Head next Hogsmeade visit. Keep it quiet, because I'm sure Umbridge won't like it."

* * *

Harry sat on his broom, observing the Keeper tryouts. Angelina Johnson, their captain, apparently wanted the entire team there so that they could find the person who 'worked best' with them. Of course, the Seeker doesn't exactly cooperate much with the Keeper. In fact, now that Harry really thought about it, the Seeker was distant from the entire team. The whole game hinged on the Seeker, too, and usually the team who caught the Snitch won, at least in lower levels of Quidditch play. The professionals were so quick that the Chasers could actually even the odds. Currently, Ron was trying out. He hadn't been aware that his best friend wanted to play on the team.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a sharp pain shot through his scar. "Ahh!" He brought his hand up to his forehead and clutched it, letting his broom wobble slightly, and then the pain passed. "You alright there, Harry?" called Fred.

"I'm fine. Listen - can you tell Angelina that I'm leaving now? I'm not really needed here, and there's an essay for Potions due." As there always was. Snape really was a bastard, not that he needed reminding. "Sure thing." Fred flew over to Angelina, who was currently intently watching Ron block simple goal attempts from Katie Bell.

He flew down and dismounted, then quickly headed over to the locker rooms to change. When done there, he headed straight to the Owlery. He had decided to mail Sirius about his scar hurting, immediately dismissing Dumbledore. He couldn't get an audience with the man, much less talk to him about his scar hurting. Besides, Dumbledore had been a little distant over the summer, compared to the ends of the previous school years.

He penned a quick note.

 _Dear Snuffles,_

 _The first week's been fine. Umbridge is an excellent lady, just like your mother and cousins._ _ _Other than Defense, I've been doing well in classes, although Dumbledore seems to have an obsession with the concept of 'love conquering all.' Also, t_ he thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again during Quidditch tryouts.  
_

 _Any thoughts on this occurrence?_

 _Best, Harry  
_

It was written in a way that only really Sirius or one of the Order would understand what he was talking about, which was in case the Ministry decided to monitor the mail.

He exited and went back to the Common Room. When he arrived, he saw that Angelina and the team were already back. "So, who got the spot? Was it Hooper?" He was pretty sure that the boy was the best out there, although he was nowhere near as good as Oliver Wood. Even with his limited knowledge of Keeper strategy he could discern that. He hadn't seen the end, though.

"I did." Ron spoke up. Harry honestly hadn't expected that.

"Oh, wow, Ron. Good job!"

"Glad to see you had so much faith in me." Harry didn't really have a reply to that, but he personally thought that Ron had not flown as well as some of the others. And Ron was his friend, so he wasn't being biased there.

Harry spotted Hermione. "Hey, Hermione, let's go to the library now."

"You sure you want to go there, _again_?" Ron questioned.

"Yes, I _do_." Ron's logic was beginning to annoy Harry a little. He could feel himself drifting farther from his best friend, because they had different views on what they should do with their time.

Harry and Hermione walked off to the library to begin their training for the day.

* * *

Ron Weasley sat on a couch in the Gryffindor Common Room, doing his Astronomy homework alone. Usually, Harry and Hermione would be with him, but they were probably running late in the library or whatever they were doing. He wouldn't be too surprised if they were over there snogging the crap out of each other.

Suddenly, he heard a tapping on the window. He turned, and saw Hermes, Percy's owl, looking imperiously down at him. He quickly crossed over to the window and opened it, then took off the letter from his estranged brother. He opened it and read.

As he read, he became more and more disgusted with his brother. Percy essentially bashed Harry, the twins, Dumbledore, and promoted Dolores Umbridge all at once. While he definitely did not agree with Percy's Ministry endorsement, he couldn't help but think back to a line that his brother had written.

 _Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter..._

He seemed to feel that way all the time. It was simply the stigma associated with being the best friend to the Boy-Who-Lived. Yet, did he really want to always be like that, always attached to Harry's side? Not really. Harry had become a lot more polarizing after the summer, and Ron wasn't sure he wanted to follow that path. He was still friends with Seamus, for example - he had managed to overcome their difference regarding Harry. And while he would support Harry throughout the year, he knew that their paths would only diverge more throughout the year. He didn't want to treat life so... seriously like Harry had been doing recently. No, he decided, that was simply not who he was.

He gathered up his belongings and ascended the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

* * *

Harry and Hermione returned late from their seventh floor classroom to the Common Room. He made his way towards the dormitory stairs, until a noise caught his attention.

"Harry, over here!" He swiveled quickly and drew his wand, even though he was quite tired after their session. "Nice reflexes, Harry." It was Sirius' head in the fire. "I've been checking every hour or so to see when you'd be back. Ron left just a bit ago."

"You weren't seen, were you?" Hermione was concerned for Sirius' safety, especially after the 'anonymous' Ministry tip-off which was almost definitely from Lucius Malfoy that Sirius Black had been spotted in London.

"One little girl saw me, but I managed to pop out quickly."

"Oh, Sirius. About that. Lucius Malfoy recognized you at King's Cross. He could've easily revealed you there and you would have been Kissed. Don't go sneaking off into, I don't know, Hogsmeade or something like you did last year. It's not worth it. Wormtail probably told all the Death Eaters how to recognize you."

"James would've-"

"I know, I know, but this is serious, Sirius." Harry continued, refusing to acknowledge the pun that his godfather laughed at. "This is practically war."

"We lived through war as well. Actual war. But I guess you're right," he conceded noncommittally. "So, your scar hurt again."

"Yeah, Dumbledore said whenever Voldemort gets really angry or has a strong emotion then my scar hurts. I just wanted to let you know."

"Since he's back it'll probably hurt more often and perhaps hurt worse," noted Sirius. "And also, about Umbridge, be wary around her. She's a nasty piece of work. She's no Death Eater, but still. The world is less black and white than most would like to believe. She drafted most of the anti-werewolf legislation of the past decade or so." Harry was not surprised.

"Anyways, what are you learning there?"

"Nothing. We just read the textbook and don't even practice any magic."

"It makes sense, considering that much of Fudge's paranoia is about Dumbledore training you guys in combat and taking over the Ministry or something. It's pretty moronic, but still."

"Forming some sort of wizard army? We aren't even-" Harry cut himself off. "Well, I suppose that we might be forming an army of sorts on our own. A defense club, out of class, so that people don't all drown the moment they realize that Voldemort's back."

"That's a good idea. Just make sure to keep it secret, and maybe include a contract they all have to sign. Although, it's too bad you can't make anything unbreakable at this age... except for official House business. Be careful who you let join."

"If anyone were willing to swear fealty to the House Potter, then sure," joked Harry. "But I don't think any of those heirs will do that."

"Okay, I'll get going now. I'll write to tell you when I can make it back here, then."

"No," stated Harry firmly. "The Ministry _can_ monitor the Floo. While I'm sure Dumbledore is protecting this connection, I doubt it will last for long. You got away with this last year, but the Ministry is scrutinizing Hogwarts closely." Harry wasn't sure if Sirius was more of a father figure to him, or _him_ a father figure to Sirius, sometimes...

"I'll try to work out a different mode of communication, then."

"Goodbye, Sirius." With a pop, Sirius' head disappeared from the fire.


	7. 7: Running a Subversive Group

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, including any content from _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ , recognizable or not. This work is not for profit.**

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM/DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER "HIGH INQUISITOR"

The news that Umbridge had been promoted to inquisitor status by the Ministry was plastered all over the _Daily Prophet_. Hermione read aloud to article. Harry had to admit, the Ministry and the _Prophet_ did a good job of playing on people's fears, citing how Dumbledore had hired Lupin, a werewolf, and Hagrid, a half-giant. And even Lucius Malfoy had something to say, commenting from his Wiltshire mansion. The same one which probably held Voldemort and his loyal followers. The political situation in Magical Britain could only get worse. Harry was pissed that by playing into Voldemort's hands, the Ministry tarnished Dumbledore's reputation and made it only harder to fight the upcoming war. Although, if- or when- the secret came out, they would be hailed as heroes. Hopefully enough to get something done, and milk it for what it was worth.

"Umbridge can inspect teachers, and probably remove them too," Hermione stated grimly. "You were absolutely right about the Ministry being authoritarian - they now control fully the standards of education at Hogwarts. Why does nobody see the fundamental problem with the government controlling all aspects of society?"

"It's because they point their finger at Dumbledore instead, and point out 'questionable' things, and play on the fears and prejudice of most people. And there are a lot of things to be afraid of in the Wizarding World, and there is a lot of prejudice, too. We need to get our defense club started soon."

* * *

Harry and Hermione walked down the way to the Hog's Head. "What jinxes did you put on the contract?" he asked as they made their way.

"Nothing fully binding, as Sirius said, bad the consequences of breaking the secret would include extreme body and facial disfiguration and bowel problems."

"I didn't know you had a nasty side, Hermione." Harry was actually quite surprised by the punishment she had cast. While it would not be irreversible, unlike darker magic, it would be quite hard to reverse since the curse she put on it is a symbol of the wizard or witch's infidelity to the contract. The person who broke it would likely suffer for a long time before Healers could do anything to fix or alleviate it.

They pushed the door and it creaked open. The room and tables were grimy and filthy, and smelled suspiciously like goats, which was quite odd, considering there were no goats whatsoever around Hogsmeade. It was very sketchy, which was probably the point of choosing this location; it was more out of the way, a better place to have a really big meeting about their defense club than in The Three Broomsticks. He looked around at the characters that inhabited the bar. "Are you sure that none of these could be a spy for _them_?" he whispered.

"We can't actually be sure," whispered Hermione back. "Although they shouldn't know that anything is happening here."

"Word of mouth," replied Harry. "News can travel farther than you intend."

"Technically we aren't doing anything wrong... yet," responded Hermione quietly. "We'll try to make sure meetings are more secret."

"One thing's for sure, the abandoned classroom we're using is not going to work." There was no way they could conceal their activities there, and it might even be too small, depending on the turnout.

They sat down and ordered two butterbeers, and idly waited for other people to show up. Finally came a rush of people; Neville came first, with, surprisingly, Dean. More and more people from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw arrived; the Creeveys, the Gryffindor Quidditch team, including Ron, and assorted others. Ernie Macmillan had also arrived, as expected, and had brought along a couple of Hufflepuffs as well. It was a reasonable turnout, considering the climate at Hogwarts.

Everyone got a butterbeer and pulled up some chairs around Harry and Hermione. "So," asked Ron. "What are we doing?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "So, you know why you're here. Harry and I had, well, the idea that with Umbridge, we might want to you know, actually train. So we thought it would be good if... if we learned Defense outside of class, without the trash that we do with Umbridge. This means real spells, real preparations."

"That would be good practice for OWLs," Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw, noted appreciatively.

"Yes, not only that," piped in Harry, "But more importantly, because Voldemort's back," he challenged to the room.

Everyone all over yelped and shuddered, reactions to the feared Dark Lord's name. None of them, though, seemed to contest his claim.

"So that's the general idea, and if you join, we'll-"

"Where's the proof?" asked a Hufflepuff. Harry remembered that the blond kid was on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. "How do we know that You-Know-Who's back?"

"Dumbledore has been saying-" started Hermione, but the kid interjected before she could finish.

"You mean he believes _him_. Harry Potter."

"And what is your name?" asked Harry.

"Zacharias Smith, and-"

"Yes, yes, I know, you want to know why. How. And that, I don't feel comfortable answering. But I saw him, and somehow managed to escape."

"Dumbledore didn't tell us anything last year, just that he was killed by You-Know-Who. He didn't tell us anything more about-"

"Of course he didn't," angrily interjected Harry. "Of course he didn't tell the sordid details, tell you of how Voldemort dismissively- _dismissively_ ordered his servant to kill him. One Killing Curse later, and he was dead." Harry was really angry at this point. "What the _fuck_ more do you want to know about how Voldemort" - everyone flinched - "murders people? He just does. And he didn't even do it himself. _That's_ why we're here, _that's_ why I want to help you all prepare for whatever this war will bring us. So that you don't get _mowed down_ when it comes to a fight. So that you can protect your family and friends. Do you want to die, or do you want to live? That's all there is to it." Harry brought his rant to an end, shaking with anger. He then took a deep breath. "So, are you in, or are you not?" he asked.

There was a murmur as people quietly agreed. "Okay," started Hermione. "Then we'll have to figure out scheduling and times, but first, I need you all to sign this," she continued, procuring the contract. "It's a contract. By signing this, you agree, to keep our activities secret, like from Umbridge. There _is_ a punishment for disobeying that."

"What is it?" asked Fred.

"Suitable to the crime," responded Hermione. "The point is, there _are_ consequences to selling us out."

Ernie and Zacharias seemed quite reluctant to sign. "Well?" asked Harry.

"I'm a prefect, and if someone found the list, then..." started Ernie.

"None of the signatures will be visible," reassured Harry. "And the rest will look like gibberish to those who haven't signed as soon as the contract is finalized. Besides, what is more important, this, or a position? It's up to you to decide."

Ernie shifted a little. "Well, I guess it _is_ quite important. I'm just not sure why the Ministry has given us Umbridge, who teaches us nothing and tries to stop us from using spells- well, I can't see any reason to their actions, and then going off and doing _this_..."

"Fudge thinks Dumbledore is trying to train students into an army to overthrow the Ministry," bluntly stated Harry. "Positively ridiculous, but the idiot believes this. Probably due to Lucius Malfoy," he muttered. "Anyways, are there any other objections? No? Then sign it when it's passed to you."

Everyone ended up signing the contract, and the names vanished from the parchment as the air glowed dully for a second. Hermione took it and put it back into her bag.

"So, we obviously need to schedule this to avoid Quidditch practice," spoke Angelina.

"That is true, we need to avoid Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw practice," conceded Harry. "However, if it comes down to it... which is more important?"

"It's not like we can just say, 'Oh, yeah, about that Captain, I missed practice to sneak off to an illicit defense club. Sorry, maybe next time I'll show up.'" Zacharias Smith spoke up.

"Fair enough, although most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team is in this." Indeed, all of them were here. "So-"

"You can't possibly be considering what I think you are, Harry," interrupted Angelina. "We need the practice, and there's no way we're going to get _less_ practice than Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw by giving it up for this."

"Again, what are your priorities?" asked Harry. "If you feel practice is more important, you can skip out on some of this, but I'll be running each and every one of these meetings."

"I guess," conceded Angelina.

"Do you think having a weekly meeting would work well?" asked Hermione. When nobody objected, she continued. "We also have to decide where we should meet."

Nobody could come up with a good suggestion for where they could meet. Soon after, the meeting adjourned and everyone began to filter out.

* * *

Monday after the Hogsmeade meeting brought bad news; the Ministry-appointed High Inquisitor had a decree that all clubs must have Umbridge's approval. _Any_ regular meeting of at least three students had to be registered with her, which in Harry's opinion was quite ridiculously paranoid. But it also meant another thing: Umbridge knew about their organization. Now that he thought about it, Hog's Head was not the best place to have their discussion; even the bartender at times seemed to be listening in to the conversation. There was a suspicious looking witch, and a wizard further down, either of whom could have easily been a spy.

He saw Hermione come down the stairs of the girls' dormitory. "Hermione, you need to look at this."

She looked over the notice. "Well, obviously, someone in the Hog's Head was a Ministry spy. We should've been more careful..."

"This means that we'll have to find a secure location. You think Sirius might know any good places? I should check the Map, too."

In the Great Hall they sat by Neville, Fred, and George. "She knows," started Harry grimly at their quizzical looks. "But we're following through on it regardless."

They quickly passed the news to the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw members as inconspicuously as possible.

* * *

An injured Hedwig had delivered mail to him in History of Magic, and after getting her to Professor Grubbly-Plank he opened what was likely from Sirius. A mirror popped out, and he caught it, as well as a note.

 _You always were getting up to no good, Harry. You left this here - try to be more responsible next time._

The Ministry was probably monitoring the mail, he decided. That was why Hedwig had been attacked. The mirror looked like the one he had used to communicate with Sirius at Gringotts, although now opening to the same password as the Marauder's Map. Hopefully Umbridge did not figure out anything about the mirror.

He waited impatiently for the rest of the day, and trained with Hermione late until around the time they had talked to Sirius the previous day. The mirror began to buzz. He withdrew it, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Sirius' face appeared in the mirror. "Hi, Sirius."

"Hi, Harry. How's it going at Hogwarts?"

"It's well, but Umbridge made sure that we aren't allowed to run our defense group... officially, anyways."

"You should meet more discreetly, you know, Harry... she probably had someone listening at the Hog's Head. Even Mundungus was there."

There was silence. "What?" Hermione suddenly asked.

"Yes, you're still being followed," said Sirius. "He was the witch under the veil."

Harry _knew_ that the witch was suspicious, although he didn't expect this. "He was _dressed up as a witch_?"

"Yeah," grinned Sirius. "Dung's been banned from the Hog's Head for about twenty years now. So now he dresses up."

"So, Sirius, do you know of any more private places that we could hold a clandestine meeting?"

"With the amount of people showing up to your club, the only thing I can think of would be the Shrieking Shack."

"That won't work," said Hermione, "just think of the logistical issues. How many Invisibility Cloaks would we need to get everyone over there and back again?"

"There's also something behind the mirror on the fourth floor, although probably too small for your purposes, but no other places come to me right now."

"It's caved in. Fred and George would've suggested it, probably, if it wasn't."

"Well, I'll have to think about it a little."

"Probably nobody knows the castle better than you, Sirius, so I hope you'll come up with something," said Harry.

"Okay, I'll be leaving now. The mirror will buzz if I call you. Say the password to answer the call. I'll only do that if it's urgent, though, since a randomly buzzing mirror would be suspicious. Instead, you should initiate the calls. You'll have to say the password directly at the mirror, and then my name, unlike earlier. I added more security to it. Also, calling around this time works well." The mirror went blank after they said their goodbyes, Sirius having said 'mischief managed' to close the connection.

"Harry... about what you were saying," started Hermione.

"What?"

"Nobody knows the castle better than Sirius. That isn't really true, is it?"

"Well, maybe Dumbledore does, but I can't see the Ministry letting up on watching him long enough for us to get in a question. Besides, he admitted it himself at the Yule Ball last year, even he doesn't know all the castle has to offer."

"Dumbledore, yes, but what about the House Elves? They clean and cook and do everything in the castle. They should know of out-of-the-way places wizards have never been."

"That's brilliant, Hermione! We'll go down to the kitchens tomorrow."

* * *

The next day dragged on and on, and brought Harry, Ron, and Hermione to the dungeons for Potions class. He sighed. It was going to be a long class, and he was not much inclined to put up with Daphne today.

"Harry?" Hermione tentatively asked as they waited outside Snape's classroom. Her eyes settled on Daphne Greengrass.

"Yes?" came the terse reply. He was in a terrible mood, and it was easily apparent to all who cared to look.

"Don't you think you should invite your fiancée to our club?" she asked.

"No. Absolutely not. For one thing, everyone else'll wonder why she's there, which will not work. For another thing, I don't want her there."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, you need to be able to tolerate different kinds of people," she lectured. "Especially one that you're going to be with for the rest of your life. At the very least, offer some sort of one-on-one practice, then. Or invite her to join us. _Everyone_ needs to be prepared, and that includes someone you will be married to."

There was no arguing. Harry quickly acquiesced, and agreed to ask her during Potions. It was just another thing he dreaded doing.

Snape appeared a minute later, cloak swirling, and opened the door with an unholy creak. The class filed in, taking their seats with their partners.

"Today we are mixing a Befuddlement Draught, as you have studied outside of class. The instructions are on the board, in case any of you get _confused_." Of course, Snape was staring directly at Harry. But he brushed it off, used to Snape's glares. "Start."

Harry and Daphne quickly got to work, dicing and mixing. By this point they had resolved just not to say anything beyond the required whenever they were forced together. Their mostly silent work continued as Snape prowled the classroom, looking for any signs of failure from the Gryffindors, until Snape issued the warning for ten minutes. They were mostly done, simply waiting as the potion within the cauldron simmered, stirring every once in awhile.

He decided to ask her then. "So, I was wondering if, uh, you would like some Defense practice. After classes." He waited for the inevitable denial, glad at least that he could justify to Hermione that she didn't want to do it either.

"Sure."

With that pronouncement his hopes spiraled into the drain. She wasn't supposed to agree! "Oh, really. It'll be pretty intensive, nothing but your best effort is allowed. After all, it's preparation for the war."

"You sound disappointed that I agreed."

"Yeah, well," he glanced at Hermione, "it's not like either of us really want to be stuck in the same room for an hour." The class finished, and they quickly poured some of the potion into a vial, labeled it, and placed it on Snape's desk for judgement.

"You may be a bastard, Potter," she replied, "But you're still the best in our year at Defense." With that she swept away in the direction that Harry vaguely remembered to be towards the Slytherin Common Room, leaving him scowling at the corridor.

Why did life have to always throw bad things at him?

* * *

Hermione and Harry stood outside the portrait leading to the kitchens. He reached up, tickled the pear, and it morphed into a door handle. He opened the door, and walked in.

The kitchens never failed to amaze him since he had seen them the previous year. Directly under the Great Hall, the kitchens certainly imitated its size and grandeur. Mounds of pots and pans lined the walls, and five big tables stood, corresponding to the tables up above. A large fireplace graced the opposite wall, roaring flames flickering within. Elves bustled about, scrubbing pots and cleaning up leftovers from dinner.

"Harry Potter, sir!" He turned, and saw Dobby standing beside a table. "Dobby! How are you doing?"

"Dobby is well, Harry Potter. But Winky is not." He drooped. "She is still drinking, Harry Potter sir. She is not well."

Hermione bristled, probably about to launch into a rant about the evils of Barty Crouch Senior.

"Dobby, I need your help," he spoke, attempting to stop that one-sided discussion from occurring.

"What is it, sir?"

"I need a place where thirty people can practice Defense Against the Dark Arts without being discovered by anyone. Do you know of any such place within Hogwarts?"

"Dobby knows the perfect place, sir! We elves know it as the Come and Go Room, or the Room of Requirement! It is a room which sometimes appears, always equipped for what you need."

"Who knows of this room?"

"People finds it but usually never finds it again, for they do not know it is always there."

"This sounds too good to be true," interjected Hermione. "I don't doubt the veracity of your claims," she quickly assured, "but are you sure that it is as secure as you say it is?"

"At least let us see it, before you decide, Hermione. Now, Dobby. Can you tell me where the room is, and how to get inside?"


	8. 8: Visions of Darkness

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, including any content from _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ , recognizable or not. This work is not for profit.**

 _Torches burned brightly at both sides of an otherwise dark, windowless corridor. He walked towards the door, growing more excited by the second. Steps echoed along the hallway as he drew closer to his goal. Finally he would have the answers he searched for. The torches flickered out as he passed, his dark presence stifling all light. Finally he would learn the secrets of his enemy and purge his foes. He reached the plain black door and drew his wand. "Your secrets are mine," he whispered, flicking his wand. The latch clicked. Finally... He would live forever, reigning over all the world. He grasped the handle, turning it and pulling open the door. At long last... Torches flared in a circular room filled with doors. He stepped purposefully into it. "I am coming for you, Harry Potter."  
_

The world faded into gray, swirling around before vanishing into nothing.

Miles away from a dark corridor deep within the Ministry, Harry Potter woke up with a gasp.

* * *

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement. It's a room that will provide whatever we need to practice Defense," Hermione started.

The room, around half the size of the Great Hall, was packed with bookcases and assorted Defense materials. Sneakoscopes and a Foe-Glass sat gathering dust at the right. Dummies were lined up against the far wall, their well-sculpted faces reminding Harry a little too much of real people.

"The first thing we need is a name. Something to call ourselves."

"The Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group!"

"Anti-Umbridge League!"

And then - "The Defense Association."

"Yes," decided Harry. "That's it."

And thus their group was named. The D.A. - the Defense Association, or equivalently Dumbledore's Army.

Hermione penned the name onto the garbled contract and pinned it to the wall. "Make sure it can be destroyed in a moments' notice," advised Harry.

"Okay. We'll start with the basics. The Disarming Charm. We'll pair up, and practice on each other. _Expelliarmus_ is the incantation."

The association split up and quickly got to work.

* * *

"Greengrass."

"Potter."

Daphne Greengrass entered the Room of Requirement, glancing around with a bit of awe at the room that the D.A. used for practice. They had organized a time to meet, and he told her how to enter the room.

"This is impressive, Potter."

"Yes. Don't tell anyone about it." A few seconds later, he added, "That's an order."

"Yes, _master_."

He snorted. It was going to be a long hour...

"We'll start with the Disarming Charm." He was met with a single raised eyebrow. "If you think you can do it, then demonstrate it."

She flicked her wand, saying, " _Expelliarmus_ ," and his wand attempted to fly out of his grasp. It didn't, however, since he had purposefully tightened his grip as he saw her incant.

"That's cheating, Potter," she complained.

"In a battle you don't know what will happen. If your charm fails, you'd better not stand there gawking at your opponent. If you do, then you die. Try again."

They began to drill.

* * *

Weeks passed, and Harry was pleased with the progress of all three of his study groups. He and Hermione, after reviewing the more useful spells from his book from the Restricted Section, _Battlefield Magic: A Survivor's Guide_ , had moved on to attempting to cast nonverbally. After some deliberation they decided that skill and depth was more important than trying to remember a spell for every single purpose, especially after reading accounts of the two previous great wizarding wars as well as memoirs of some of the great wizards through the ages. Rather than simply relying on incantations, they _flowed_ with the magic, resulting in more seamless casting.

Countless attempts to perform even the simple Levitation Charm, though, were met with failure. Eventually Harry pretended that he was learning the Patronus Charm again, attempting to channel the positive magic through force of will. Slowly but surely, he managed to get minimal results out of it.

With the D.A., they had progressed through basic battle magic, including the Reductor Curse and Impediment Jinx. Though the effects of the Reductor Curse on the dummies was quite gruesome, and led to a couple of emptied stomachs, his included, they managed to get over it and improve. They were slowly molding into a cohesive unit, their constant companionship only bolstering their resolve to do better and try harder.

Hermione had come up with a method to communicate the times and dates of the meetings: a fake Galleon. Harry had the master coin, connected to the rest by a Protean Charm, and was able to change the serial number to the appropriate times. After a quick request, Hermione modified it so that along the other side he could add a message as well. Although ingenious, it reminded Harry a little too much of Voldemort's Dark Mark branded onto Death Eaters' skins for comfort.

Daphne, though, had plateaued, unable to handle the effects of Harry's Reductor Curse on the dummies, much less able to cast the spell. He was convinced that it simply was because she didn't _want_ to cast the spell at the dummies - deep inside, something protested at it. It reminded him of when he was trying desperately to master the Patronus Charm but failing because deep down he wanted to feel the Dementors' effects, wanted to hear his parents once more...

 _Cold, high-pitched laughter resounded within his head. "Bow to death, Harry." "Crucio!" "Kill the spare." A flash of green light..._

He snapped back to reality when he heard Daphne swear yet again, once more failing to do much more than push the dummy back from where he had set it up in the middle of the room, upright as if an enemy wizard.

"You have to mean it, Daphne."

"What do you mean, I have to _mean it_ , Potter? I do mean it - I _do_ want to succeed!

"You don't," he blandly stated. "The blood and gore when I performed the curse - it sickens you. You don't want to see the dummy on the ground with fake blood spattered all over. Perhaps, deep inside, you care about more than your sheltered life. Perhaps... you don't want to see people hurt."

"Don't presume that you can analyze me, Potter," she spat.

"Then leave! Then walk out the door, and deny my help. These sessions, they're about _you_ \- _you_ getting better at Defense, _you_ learning new spells, but more importantly, _you_ being able to face what you fear, and correcting your flaws! And if you don't correct your mindset, then I can't teach you much more than that! Determination and willpower are the two most important things to it all!"

"So be it," she stated coldly, and walked out the door.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief that these tortuous sessions were finally over.

* * *

It was worth it. It was _so_ very worth it.

He was banned from Quidditch. For life. As were Fred and George. And he lost his Firebolt. But it wasn't quite enough to sink his spirit - certainly the Ministry would rescind it when they recognized that Voldemort was back, and thus it wasn't for life. It wasn't enough because he had managed reasonably powerful nonverbal magic.

After losing the Quidditch match, Draco Malfoy, the sore loser he was, attempted to rile up Harry and the Weasleys. Despite his underhanded tactic with the "Weasley is Our King" song, Gryffindor _still_ won - and he took offense at that, apparently.

Juvenile insults progressed to insults about the Weasley family as a whole, to insults about Harry's upbringing - not that he cared about Malfoy ridiculing the Dursleys. Then, though, Malfoy had insulted his mother. His mother had died to save him, and he would _not_ tolerate a junior Death Eater like Malfoy to insult her memory.

Spurred on by rage, he brought his wand up - even as Fred and George imitated him on either side - and _cast_. Even before he screamed the incantation out, he felt the Bat-Bogey Hex leave his wand and it sped towards Malfoy, Fred and George's choices of spells flanking it. The three spells combined, with gruesome results. Not only was his nose affected, boils sprouted up along his right cheek where Fred's spell hit, and the Slytherin began to vomit slugs as the bats began to attack him all over.

The three of them were quickly restrained, but he couldn't help thinking that it was worth it - not only for the pleasure of squashing Malfoy but also for his achievement.

* * *

Evening came and morning followed, and with it came Hagrid. Harry and Hermione were delighted to see him, and he told them the details about his mission to the giants. With him back came trouble, though. Umbridge reviewed their class on thestrals, which were the winged horses that he had seen pulling the carriages. Due to prejudice, she found him unsatisfactory. No doubt Hagrid's teaching job would be compromised. Additionally, Death Eaters had managed to stage a coup within the giants, turning the tide of the negotiations. Hagrid and Madame Maxime, his partner in negotiations, were lucky to escape with their lives.

Even in this cold war between the Order and Voldemort, support for the Dark Lord only seemed to grow while the Order dwindled - the giants were now barred as potentially allies or at least as a neutral party, Sturgis Podmore had been arrested earlier for attempting to force his way through a top-security door.

A secret door at the heart of the Ministry - it had to be. It was on the same floor as the courtroom in which his trial was held - the Department of Mysteries, he remembered.

What was Voldemort looking for? " _I am coming for you, Harry Potter_." A weapon? Some sort of power, a way past their twin cores? What mysteries lay behind the plain black door? He continued to muse about his vision as he wandered down to the Great Hall for dinner.

There, the mood was subdued, with muttering all over. Students everywhere were hunched in groups, obviously studying something. His questions were soon answered.

"Harry! Harry, have you seen?" questioned Neville, rushing up to him and brandishing a copy of the _Evening Prophet_. "Death Eaters have escaped from Azkaban!"

Indeed, the cover of the front page showed pictures of the partially ruined fortress. On it were also the pictures of the Lestranges and the other escapees.

Harry remembered his conversation with Dumbledore in which he learned of the fate of the Longbottoms. "Oh. I'm sorry for, you know..." he trailed off, unsure how to bring to topic up.

"You know about my parents?"

"Yeah," he awkwardly stated. How else to mention that he learned of how Neville's parents were tortured into insanity from Dumbledore regarding Barty Crouch Jr.'s trial, the same man who impersonated Moody last year and took great delight in Neville's fear of the Cruciatus?

"We need to prepare more than ever, Harry. I want to be able to defend myself... especially from _her_." He shuddered.

"Yes," he agreed. "Treat adversity as an obstacle to overcome, and you will achieve your goals." He decided to take after Dumbledore in the whole saying sententious things to make you sound wise department.

After promising Neville to schedule more D.A. meetings and eating, he returned to the Gryffindor Tower to retire. Had Voldemort broken out his supporters to aid in his search for whatever he was trying to obtain? Either way, it was clear that Voldemort would no longer wait idly by or hide in the shadows. He was becoming more bold, and it was paying off for the Death Eaters; the Ministry blamed the mass breakout on Sirius Black, and refused to even consider the possibility that the feared Dark Lord indeed had returned. With that thought, he dropped into the bed, hoping for a rest unobstructed by mysterious dreams and visions.

* * *

 _He moved smoothly across the floor of the dark corridor, almost indistinguishable from the polished black of the bottom of hallway. The hallway should have been empty, as he had arranged, but as he withdrew his tongue he smelled the faint but unmistakeable scent of a human female at the end, and slithered silently down so as to make no sound to disturb the snoring guard. He reached the end, and observing the human through his haze of a vision, he saw blond hair and blue eyes, the rest of the body partially obscured by an Invisibility Cloak. He longed to bite the human, but there was a task at hand... he pushed open the door, which was slightly ajar, and the creaking startled the woman awake, who suddenly sat upright and reached for her wand. Perhaps his lust for blood would be sated, then. He lashed at the human, biting deeply into her skin, and she let out a large cry, dropping her wand, even as her skin morphed and twisted into the figure of a young woman with pink hair..._

"Tonks!" The cry was on his lips as he burst awake, a concerned Ron and Neville surrounding him.

He needed to find Dumbledore.


	9. 9: I Now Pronounce You

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, including any content from _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ , recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

"Mate, are you alright?" asked Ron. "You were moaning and thrashing around in your sleep. We thought you were having nightmares or... something." He shifted.

"I'm perfectly alright," insisted Harry.

"Then you were having a, you know, _dream_? A special one?" asked Neville quite forthrightly.

"I was _not_ having an erotic dream about Tonks," growled Harry. "I need to see Dumbledore."

"Funny how that's the first thing your mind goes to. Who is this Tonks person who can catch your fancy?" Neville smirked. "Come down to the Common Room, then. We'll get McGonagall."

Harry wondered if the new and improved Neville was worth it. Nevertheless, he stumbled down the stairs and rested in a couch until Professor McGonagall arrived. To say the old Transfiguration Professor was unhappy to see him would be an extreme understatement. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she surveyed his disheveled form.

"What is it, Mr. Potter?"

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore," he repeated.

"I assume it is for a good reason, as you have _mostly_ behaved yourself this term." Clearly she was still upset about him, Fred, and George being banned from Quidditch.

They quickly made their way to the gargoyle statue. "Acid Pops!" she declared, and the statue began to move. They stepped onto the spiral staircase and made their way up to the door, where she knocked and was answered by a muffled "Come in."

They entered the Headmaster's Office. All sorts of gizmos and gadgets adorned the walls, the bookshelves, and the large wooden desk in the center. In the corner, Fawkes rested on his perch. Sitting in the chair of the desk was the Headmaster himself, his long silver hair gleaming in the dim candlelight.

"I feared that you might find it necessary to come, Harry. You may go, Minerva." The Transfiguration Professor bristled a little at being dismissed so quickly, but followed his request.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Why would it be a bad thing?"

"You saw something in your dreams. A vision," he observed, looking away at the wall behind Harry.

"I saw Tonks. She was bit by a giant snake... in the Department of Mysteries."

Dumbledore ignored the last part, instead calling for two former Headmasters to sound the alarm in the Ministry, and produced a brilliant silver Patronus, a phoenix. He gave it some instructions, and it disappeared in a flash of silver fire, presumably off to deliver a message of some sort to the Order.

"What happened in the dream, Harry?" he asked.

"I _just_ told you what happened, Professor - she was bit by a giant snake!"

"Were you watching from above, or standing alongside the snake like you were in a Pensieve?"

"No, I," - Harry hesitated - "I _was_ the snake."

Dumbledore was extremely grim now. "You share a deep connection with Voldemort, one unparalleled in history. Even I cannot fathom how deep it might run. Nevertheless, I think it will be best if you learn Occlumency from Professor Snape."

"What's Occlumency? And why do I have to learn it from _Snape_?" Harry shot off questions. "Can't you teach it to me, Professor?"

" _Professor_ Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected. "Occlumency is the arcane art of closing your mind to foreign intrusions. Voldemort is highly skilled at Legilimency, the ability to delve into the intricacies of the mind, and may wish to exploit this connection for his benefit. Your vision just now represents a large intrusion into Voldemort's mind - he surely must have noticed."

"Voldemort can _read minds_?"

Dumbledore winced. "It is not as crude as that, Harry, but such an explanation will suffice for now."

"So how exactly will I be learning this from Snape - Professor Snape?"

"He will attempt to intrude on your mind and assess your attempts, giving you advice on how to better close it."

"You watch Snape try to give me advice," Harry snorted.

" _Professor_ Snape." Dumbledore sounded tired.

Harry suddenly realized something extremely important. "Wait - you're letting Snape _read my mind_ to 'help' me? Not likely."

"Harry, Severus has my utmost confidence and my full trust. Alas, we may argue about this another time. We have a visitor. Come in," he called out.

The door opened, to reveal none other than Professor Umbridge. "Potter and Dumbledore," she sneered. "Chatting like old friends."

"Was there anything you needed, Dolores?"

"Why, indeed there is." Her features twisted. "You see, I heard from some students about the racket Potter was causing, and naturally went to investigate. When I arrived on the scene he was already gone. I was referred here by some students who remembered Potter _insisting_ on seeing you, Headmaster - I wonder why that is?" she insinuated. "And by Education Decree Twenty-Six, a teacher must discuss with students only things related to the specific class they are teaching. How would the Minister look upon this conversation?"

"It is lucky, then, Dolores, that I am Headmaster at this school, not a professor."

"We will see how long that lasts," she sneered.

"As it is, Harry here was simply informing me that he had to go home early for the holidays." He glanced at Harry, apparently seeking acknowledgement. Harry nodded.

"Indeed?" she inquired. "That's awfully strange, isn't it, hmm? The boy is quite unbalanced, his attack on Draco Malfoy has proved as much. I would suggest not allowing him out at least until the holidays - unless you have an ulterior motive for doing so."

"I, Dolores, am not privy to all of the goings-on between Harry and his relatives, but it seems his presence is required."

"Very well. Know that your arbitrary rules and standards here at Hogwarts are coming to an end." With that, the vile woman stormed out of the office.

Dumbledore sighed. "You will go back to Grimmauld place until school reconvenes after the winter holidays. Perhaps you should also visit young Nymphadora, should she prove to be alive."

* * *

The next couple of weeks passed with little incident; he was holed up in Grimmauld Place with Sirius, conversing only briefly with the Order members who passed through on various types of business. After the first week, he understood how Sirius felt, not allowed to leave the house. For if he was out and about, Dumbledore maintained, then word might get to Umbridge, who would immediately be suspicious. He had to wait at least until the winter holidays to get out of the house, and more importantly, see Tonks.

He had little idea of how the pink-haired Auror was faring, beyond the regular updates on her health by the Order members passing through. Instead of worrying, he whiled away the hours by doing all sorts of activities with Sirius: he helped groom Buckbeak, he trained some, and they even attempted to cook dinner. The last had failed spectacularly. Sirius remarked how it reminded him of what the Marauders would get up to when not making merry at others' expense. As eager as Harry was to learn more about his parents and their friends, those memories clearly saddened Sirius and put a damper on both of their moods. Being stuck in Grimmauld Place obviously was not doing much for Sirius' psyche.

He was bored to the point of almost wishing for his Occlumency lessons to start, except for the fact that Snape was going to teach them.

He, impatient like Sirius, could not wait until the time when he would be let out of the house.

* * *

He considered what he had been told for a couple of weeks, but now knew for certain: Tonks was alive. Tonks was alive, he reflected, because of his vision. Why, then, would Dumbledore want him to block them off? Voldemort could use them for misdirection and manipulation, but they might still yield crucial information. He sat outside the Creature-induced Injuries Ward, Moody standing guard with his eye whizzing all around.

A Healer opened the door. "You may come in and see Ms. Tonks now."

He rose and followed her in, passing witches and wizards clutching all sorts of extremities, clearly in deep pain. One man kept insisting that he was bitten by a dog - reminding Harry of his first year, where Ron had tried the same thing to conceal Hagrid's dragon. Most likely the man was actually up to something illegal. They finally reached the pink-haired Auror's bed.

"Tonks," he greeted. "I'm glad you're well."

"Well as I can be, in any circumstance," she noted. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Well..." he trailed off. "How long are you going to be in here?"

"I don't know." She winced in pain. "The venom messes around with my Metamorph abilities. Every once and a while I'll have a spasm. The Healers think I'll just have to slowly let them purge the venom from my system."

"Oh. That's pretty bad, then." He stared somewhere else, uncomfortable at watching the heavily bandaged Tonks shift around in the bed.

"I guess I have to thank you. For saving my life and all."

"No problem, Tonks."

She laughed, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. "Damn! My lungs are acting up. You save someone's life and you claim it's 'no problem.' Just another day in the life of Harry Potter." She laughed again. "Well, I lost my job. Everything pretty much sucks right now."

"Why were you fired?"

"Well, it wasn't being fired so much as being asked to leave by Bones. It was for my own good, really. Had I stayed they would have done a whole investigation into what happened, and perhaps questioned the circumstances under which I was bitten. Straight into Azkaban for treason for me, then. Associating with Dumbledore while being an Auror isn't exactly what you want to do in this climate. So I left, and Bones promised she'd close the investigation." She laughed again. "Twenty-one years old and already fired from the Auror force, relegated to hanging around Headquarters and trying to do something useful. Just like Sirius."

"At least you aren't stuck there."

"But I'm stuck _here_."

Harry had to concede. After exchanging pleasantries, he and Moody left, returning back to Muggle London.

* * *

They made their way into Diagon Alley next, and walked down the long and crowded path towards Gringotts. The large Wizarding Bank stood grandly above the clutter of shops and street vendors, distinguishing itself as a place of great importance. He and Moody pushed the large double doors open, and Harry waited in line for a teller. He finally reached the front of the short queue.

"Harry Potter, here for - "

"An official ceremony, yes. Follow me."

Harry reflected on the goblins' tendency to cut him off whenever he arrived. Was it impatience or efficiency? Or were the goblins simply unwilling to put up with human affairs more than necessary?

The goblin led him in a different direction than he had gone the last time he visited Gringotts, but apart from generalities he could not tell the doors or hallways apart. Gringotts was a veritable warren of passageways and rooms, presumably for the sake of security. Finally, they arrived. The goblin opened a large, heavy door, and Harry was offered an incredible view of a large, domed chamber with seats all around and an intricate runic circle in the middle. The Greengrasses were already there, excluding the youngest daughter, who was still unaware of the events surrounding her sister. Another wizard that Harry didn't recognize was waiting as well.

"This is a ritual chamber, designed purely for Pureblood customs and rites. Your marriage will take place here." While Harry continued to gape in awe at the chamber's architecture, the goblin grew impatient. "Well? Get along then - if your reservation expires, you come back another day to get this done." The goblin left, closing the door behind him with a thunk.

"You're finally here." The Greengrass matriarch spoke to him for the first time. "Hurry up, now."

He quickly made his way to the center, where the runic circle adorned the floor. He glanced at it, nervous.

"Don't worry, it's mostly for show." The other wizard spoke up. "Minister Prince, at your service." He offered his hand.

Harry looked at it warily. "Has he been sworn to secrecy?" he asked.

"Indeed," Lord Greengrass confirmed. He raised up his hands when Harry glared at him, obviously mistrustful of anything the man said.

"I am," inputted the minister.

"Harry Potter, nice to meet you." Harry finally replied, shaking the man's hand. "Regardless, I want you to sign something after the service as well."

The man acquiesced, understanding the need Harry had for confirmation.

"So," said the minister, rubbing his hands together. "Shall we begin?"

Harry and Daphne quickly assumed their places within the ritual circle. They grasped each others' forearms. Harry winced as he touched her, her unexpectedly cold skin unnatural to the touch.

"We're doing a shortened marriage today, a modified Marriage Vow to account for - " he glanced at the Greengrasses - "unusual circumstances." He drew his wand.

"We are here to witness the union of Harry James Potter and Daphne Celeste Greengrass." He waved his wand, causing light to glow around their joined arms.

"Do you, Harry James Potter, swear to uphold the contract which defines your marriage?"

"I do."

Do you, Daphne Celeste Greengrass swear to uphold the contract which defines your marriage?"

"I do," she gritted out.

"Do you both swear to carry out any marital duties until death do you part?"

"I do," they both affirmed. The magical glow faded.

"Then let me be the first to congratulate you two on your union. You may now kiss the bride," he stated.

When Harry and Daphne made no attempt to do any sort of thing, he sighed. "Well, unusual circumstances and all. I wish you all the best of luck in these troubled times." He started to leave, then remembered. "So, Mr. Potter, what is this contract you wanted me to sign...?"


	10. 10: The Boy-Who-Killed

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, including any content from _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ , recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

Once the non-disclosure agreement for Minister Prince was finalized and he had agreed to once again swear his knowledge to secrecy, acquiescing to Harry's paranoid demands, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was over, and it was finalized. There was no going back. For better or for worse, his decision was set in stone, which meant that he did not need to ponder the moral implications of what he had been doing anymore. Yet, he could not escape the guilt at the back of his mind. _This is war_ , he decided. The high-ranking Death Eaters were now escaped. Voldemort was building up his support base. They could be literally up to anything right now. The only information source the Order had was Snape, and both Harry and Sirius did not trust him at all. They had no eyes inside the Death Eater lair, and Snape was quite possibly their eye inside the Order.

An idea formed, and loathe as he was to attempt to carry it out, it was the best idea he had at the moment. It would be quite immoral, yet that somehow did not concern him as much as it would have at the beginning of the year.

He quickly swept out of the room, letting the door bang loudly behind him. His goblin escort was just returning from somewhere down the hallway. "Excuse me?"

"Yes?" the goblin asked, obviously annoyed at the vague query.

"Could I speak to someone with authority? Over my accounts or something?"

"Gringotts does not have Account Managers, Mr. Potter, ever since the wizards demanded it. Apparently they were afraid of corruption. Before that were the glory days..." he reminisced. "There are several goblins, though, acquainted with the holdings of the Potter family. I will take you to Griphook," he continued. They began to walk through the labyrinth of hallways.

"And what is your name?" he asked, painfully aware of how awkward it was. He had not asked the goblin its name before, but he hadn't exactly had an opening, either. "You may call me Bashskull."

"What!?" Harry exclaimed.

The goblin smiled a toothy grin. It was frightening, to say the least, and was something Harry never wanted to witness again. "English names are no more important to goblins than Gobbledygook names are to humans, Mr. Potter. Most have them simply for effect, and for the wizards to feel comfortable around us."

Harry had to admit, most wizards would just botch Gobbledygook names. The revelation that the goblins made up English names was enlightening. "You feed stereotypes, don't you? You enjoy seeing Purebloods squirm in fear," he suddenly realized.

The goblin smiled again, and he regretted saying anything just because he was subjected to it again. "You are more astute than most wizards, Mr. Potter. Yes, we are a warrior race. Making wizards uncomfortable is always pleasing."

By then they had arrived in front of yet another door. "How many types of doors do you have, anyways? There are only so many types of wood, right?"

The goblin simply smiled again. By now Harry was sure, especially in light of their previous conversation, that the goblin knew of his discomfort at the action and was simply doing it as much as possible. "How many types of wands do you wizards have? There are only so many types of wood and types of magical creatures, no?"

"I suppose that makes sense." With that, he entered the office.

Griphook sat at his desk, poring over stacks of documents. How a warrior race, as 'Bashskull' had described, took well to banking, he had no idea. Although, he supposed, in both war and finance, bloodthirsty instincts would serve you well.

"Griphook," he greeted.

"Mr. Potter."

"I admit, I was surprised when your name first came up in relation to the Potter estate. I only remember you as the goblin who first took me to my vault."

"I took you because I had extensive knowledge of the the Potter accounts, Mr. Potter. Now, I hear you wish to conduct business?"

"Yes. But first, while we're at it, could you tell me how much money I have?"

"The Potters were never exactly upper-crust Pureblood elite. The previous war also drained the coffers of many families - you have enough to get you through school and to support you for a couple years before getting a job."

"Okay. Any other assets or things of note?"

"Not that Gringotts is aware of, except for your status as the Heir Black and your finalized marriage to the Greengrass Heiress. The Blacks, in the last century, squandered much of their money and spent the rest on the bribery and politics. The Greengrasses, on the other hand, have a decent amount of money, some of which is owed to their heir and thus to you when she reaches majority. It will be, however, not any more than what you already have in your vault."

"I guess that is... fine.

Griphook smirked. Harry added that to the list of horrific goblin expressions. "Did you think you would be a billionaire, be able to buy three mansions and a Muggle airplane, Mr. Potter? Gold does not grow on trees, nor does it breed underground, contrary to the wishes of all goblins as well as humans."

"I suppose." Harry, to be honest, was a little disappointed at the state of his family. "But I came here for a business proposition for Gringotts. More specifically, it refers to the debt the bank owes me for collusion in scamming the Black and Potter families."

Griphook's face twisted. "Yes, that is technically the last asset of the House Potter." It clearly pained the goblin to admit it, leaving him looking like he had swallowed an exceptionally large rock. "What can Gringotts do to be of service to you?"

"I believe it can actually end up a matter of mutual profit for both of us. Here was my idea..."

* * *

Harry had barely closed the door to Grimmauld Place before a large black dog crashed into him, licking him repeatedly. He fell to the floor, laughing. "Down, boy." The dog sat back, panting. "Transform back, Sirius."

The dog morphed into the form of his godfather. "My godson is married!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah," Harry realized, surprised. "I guess I am." He had definitely never conceived of the Wizarding World existed when he was growing up, much less something like this occurring.

"We need to celebrate! Bust out the Firewhiskey, maybe I'll let you try, just this once."

Harry laughed. "Okay, Sirius." A sudden thought struck him. "I'm married and you aren't! You'd better get off your ass, you old dog!"

Sirius took offense. "Now you're going to pay!" He transformed back into a dog and bounded towards Harry, who immediately scurried out of the way.

Harry ran up the stairs, Padfoot nipping at his heels.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to visit the Weasleys? Take your mind off of things?" asked Sirius.

"No," replied Harry. "I think I'm fine."

They sat together in the attic. Harry and Sirius watched Buckbeak make his way all around the room.

In the morning, the _Daily Prophet_ had published more slander, but this time it was definitely directly from the Ministry.

BOY-WHO-LIVED, BOY-WHO-LIED: NOW THE BOY-WHO-KILLED?

 _The ministerial investigation on the death of Cedric Diggory has come to a startling conclusion. As readers may know, the investigation began in late June when Minister Fudge began it to look into the unfortunate death of a Triwizard Champion._

 _"We believed it to be an accident, a rogue creature in the maze or something else," says Auror Dawlish, one of the wizards assigned to the case. But the truth is far more sinister."The body was practically unmarked," added Dawlish to the Daily Prophet. "It only could have been caused by a wand."_

 _When this reporter saw Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory appear outside the maze, she initially believed it to be a traumatic experience as well. The controversial fourth Champion was crying profusely over the Hufflepuff's dead body. Yet, the investigative committee conclusively has determined that it was Harry Potter who killed Cedric Diggory. "The worst thing about it, though," added Dawlish, "is that we cannot do anything about it. When the three Ministries activated the Goblet of Fire, they implicitly agreed to its rules - and that includes immunity to the three contestants for whatever happens within the boundaries of the three tasks. A murderer is allowed to walk loose with no repercussions." Nor is the Ministry allowed to condone violence against the former Champion for his actions during the Tournament, the Auror went on to explain._

 _This reporter advises readers to be wary of the innocent-looking Boy-Who-Lived; Undersecretary and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Dolores Umbridge has this to say of Harry Potter: "Harry Potter is a rumor-mongering, trouble-making youth who seeks to destabilize society by using his fame. He has consistently shown himself to be immature and reckless in endangering other innocent students." She noted the (See page 5, BOY-WHO-KILLED)_

The article continued on a different page, but Harry did not have the heart to read further. He only hoped that the members of the D.A. would continue to have faith in him.

Everything was going to hell. The Ministry continued to attack him. Voldemort continued to search for whatever was inside the Department of Mysteries. He was soon to be stuck with Snape in 'lessons' about Occlumency. And finally, he had just been married. He performed an irreversible action of disputable morality.

He tried to ignore the gnawing sense of guilt inside as he sat with Sirius, but he simply could not. He was interrupted from his thoughts by Sirius.

"I think a letter has arrived... strange, since the wards should keep them out."

They made their way downstairs. Sirius opened the front door, and outside was a letter, evidently dropped by an owl. It was marked with a Gringotts seal.

 _To Harry James of the House Potter,_

 _This notice requests the presence of Mr. Potter to settle old financial dealings with the Parkinson family. As per regulations, Gringotts is required to notify the recently emancipated Mr. Potter of this occurrence. A meeting between the concerned parties will take place at Gringotts the day after receiving this notice._

 _From the Gringotts Branch of Financial Dealings  
_

Sirius was grim. "Death eaters seem to be attacking you from all sides. Marriage contracts, financial disputes, and the Ministry. I suggest you take the mirror, like last time. We very barely dodged a bullet."

Harry could take the lies and acting no longer. Sirius was his godfather, his former magical guardian. He was permitted to reveal what really happened in the Gringotts negotiation room with the Greengrasses, so he did.

"Sirius, there's something I want to tell you. It involves the Greengrass contract..."

Sirius listened patiently to Harry's story, to his moral questions. He was there to listen, not to disapprove or to lecture.

When the explanation was all done, he put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, I will always be here for you. You did some questionable things, but with some reason to it. And you respected Daphne's boundaries, and only tried to do what was best. I will be the first to testify that what you did has helped, to some minor degree. In recent Order meetings Snape has reported - although it sounded more like a complaint, to be honest - that the Death Eaters were unable to coerce the Greengrass family into giving large 'discounts' on potions ingredients. They caved slightly, but not fully, undoubtedly due to your influence. Small things like this make it just that much harder for Voldemort's forces to create potions and therefore for them to do things like assault Azkaban or even the Ministry, should the time come."

Harry was relieved to get that off his chest. "Thank you, Sirius, for not being quick to judge and for reassuring me." He smiled. "And now I would be remiss in my duties if I did not make you swear not to reveal any of this."

Sirius did.

"However, Sirius, now, because of this letter from Gringotts and the Parkinsons, there are more questionable things that may happen. I want you to tell me if you agree with what I am going to do."

Sirius listened as Harry detailed his idea to deal with the Parkinsons, a grin lighting up his face as he realized how devious his godson could be.

 **A/N: I'll be out for a week and a half, so you got this one early. Let the rejoicing begin (end?).**


	11. 11: Manipulations and Lies

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, including any content from _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ , recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

"Welcome back to Gringotts, Mr. Potter," greeted the goblin, Bashskull. "Shall I take you to the Parkinsons?"

"Yes, you may," he replied. The Parkinsons wanted to 'settle old financial dealings.' Their intentions, though, were obviously less than noble. Parkinson Sr. was a blood purist, and likely actually was a low-ranking Death Eater during the first war. Now that Voldemort was gathering allies, he knew that the Parkinsons would jump at the chance to attempt to swindle or otherwise cheat their Lord's 'greatest enemy.' So here he was.

They arrived at the door, which swung open at Bashskull's command. He entered.

As expected, the Parkinsons were duplicitous in their message. Between the imposing form of Lord Parkinson and the regal figure of his wife sat Pansy Parkinson. He forced a smile onto his face and shook Parkinson Sr.'s hand. "Lord Parkinson." "Mr. Potter." He sat and let Parkinson and Bashskull do the talking.

"We are here to discuss the recently activated contract between the families Parkinson and Potter. Is there anything before we start?"

He was tempted to ask if this was a script, but if he did the game might be up. "Yes," he replied, "What is this? I thought this was a... financial dispute."

Lord Parkinson smiled cruelly. "It is, Mr. Potter, but not in the conventional sense. And now, goblin, I want a contract of non-disclosure between the two houses. We wouldn't want any... _word_ getting out. Just the people in this room may discuss the deal, unless I and Mr. Potter here consent."

"Any objection, Mr. Potter?" asked Bashskull.

"No. I agree."

Bashskull withdrew the form and signed it, and Harry and Lord Parkinson did the same.

The non-disclosure contract let out a brief flash of magic. "Now, on to the details of the marriage contract," stated Bashskull. "The contract was activated due to an as of yet unknown clause in this," he indicated, pointing to one of the big stacks of paper on the table.

"Let me guess," started Harry. "It is a contract of 'mutual benefit' and that the moment you get custody of me you'll hand me over to Voldemort. Thanks, but no thanks."

Parkinson Sr. bristled. "Of course not, Mr. Potter. How dare you accuse such things! Not to mention, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is _not_ back, regardless of the lies you continue to promulgate!"

"So, then," Harry sneered, "where are the papers you want me to sign? The ones that give my life away? Procure them, and I'll find out where the problem is."

"Of course, Mr. Potter," agreed Lord Parkinson. "Just remember that you _do_ have to accept some version of this contract anyway; your ancestors have made sure of that."

Bashskull handed him the agreement the Parkinsons wished him to sign. He read through most of it, skimming the rest. The Parkinsons agreed in it to not endanger him, unless protecting him endangered their own family. A stupid person might find that adequate, but Harry did not. The Parkinsons could, for example, have Voldemort threaten to kill them unless they handed him over, and then they would do so happily. In fact, their plan probably hinged upon him not realizing this.

"Okay, I guess you do make provisions for my safety. But why should I sign it?"

"Mr. Potter," gritted out Parkinson Sr. "I have already explained. You must sign it. Your family agreement dictates that you must."

"Okay, okay, I'll sign it. But you sign it, first."

"This behavior is petty and unbecoming of-" Parkinson started.

"Just sign it, and we can both go our separate ways," interjected Harry. Riling up Lord Parkinson was quite an amusing task.

"Very well." The man signed the contract, then pushed it across the table for Harry to do the same.

Now it was Harry's turn to smile. "You have signed this contract, and in doing so have acknowledged that you wish for this... attempt on my house to stand."

"What?" objected Parkinson. "We are doing no such thing to you!"

"You see," Harry continued to explain, "I already knew that you were going to do this beforehand. In fact, Bashskull, Griphook and I arranged for it to be this way."

Lord Parkinson was now in denial. "No, no, there's no way you could've-"

"You fell straight into our trap," Harry spoke over the man. "Now you will finally pay the price for supporting Voldemort."

"But still," desperately grasped Lord Parkinson, "your House has no authority to exact reparations! No matter what you think, no matter how well you planned, you still cannot do this! It will not stand!"

"I am a Black," stated Harry, "as well as a Potter." Harry loved the expression on the man's face; he could understand now the allure of revealing your evil plan. The moment was priceless; it was the fall of the mighty, the revenge of the lowly, of every single Muggleborn who suffered under the man's hand.

Parkinson deflated like a balloon. "What do you want of us?"

"Well, there is only so much I can ask of you, fortunately for you," Harry continued. "Gringotts wants a third of your money. Right, Bashskull?"

"The goblins have never forgotten the role the Parkinsons played in our defeat in the last rebellion. That much of your money is suitable reparation."

"I knew I never should have trusted you _goblins_ ," he spat out. "Always little conniving bastards."

"And as for the Black family, we'll just take your daughter."

"No!" pleaded Parkinson. "Not my daughter! Please, I - I'll do anything!"

"It seems I was right about your true loyalties. You're a weak man, Parkinson. You care too much about your family to make a good Death Eater; you value them over your vaunted political ideology. And as for the 'doing anything' part, that's the general point, Parkinson," stated Harry. "You value your family, you stay in line."

Earlier Harry might have felt some sympathy for the man, as he had briefly for Greengrass. But now all he felt was the satisfaction of a job well done.

"Now we will negotiate a new contract, Parkinson."

* * *

The new agreement was finalized, and both Harry and Bashskull were pleased. Parkinson was not.

"Some day you will pay for this, you know. Somewhere, sometime. It will come back to bite you." He had calmed down much from earlier.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," dismissed Harry. "Either way, that's a surprising philosophy, coming from a Death Eater. Now could I and Parkinson here have a word alone?" he asked Bashskull.

The goblin ushered the other two Parkinsons out of the room, who were still in shock over the great reversal of fortunes. From their lack of reactions, Harry assumed that they were a part of the plan to sell him out to Voldemort. For that, he felt no mercy.

"So. Parkinson. There's one more thing I want of you."

"Yes, I know," he stated, resigned. "And I will not do it, even though you hold all the cards," he stated, bitter but defiant.

"Pledge yourself to my service until Voldemort dies. When he dies, you're a free man in both senses. Free of him, and free of me. That's all I ask of you."

Seeing Parkinson's indecision, he continued.

"If you disagree, you _know_ that bad things will happen to your family. But if you agree, then you have a chance to get out of this all intact. It's not even for the rest of your life. Just until Voldemort dies."

Lord Parkinson considered the offer before him. This was actually the best deal he was going to get. Odds were that Potter would die, and then he would be free.

"Very well," he acquiesced. "I will pledge myself to your service," he stated, and then did so.

"First, you will keep this conversation private from everyone, including your family. And you will agree to let me converse with anyone about the contents of this day."

"I agree."

"I want you to spy on the Death Eaters. It is a simple task. And to do so, you will not remember any of this conversation. How strong is your _Confundus_?"

"It is adequate."

"Confund yourself and then I will give you some instructions."

" _Confundo_."

"You are a loyal Death Eater who hates Harry Potter. You keep a record of everything that goes on in a diary, and you send it to Sirius Black every couple of days. That is an order of mine." He would have to make sure that Sirius let in Parkinson's letters.

He exited, leaving the dazed man in the room. As he left, he remarked to the other two Parkinsons, "He tried to attack me and it backfired. He might not remember some of today, or more. Not that I care. Have a nice day." Bashskull escorted him out.

* * *

When he reached Grimmauld, escorted by Moody, he ran up the stairs to Sirius' room. "It worked!" he exclaimed. "Parkinson is now our unwitting spy."

"That's good news, Harry," chuckled Sirius. "I never really trusted Snivellus, anyway."

"Hopefully he will be able to find out what Voldemort wants in the Department of Mysteries..."

Sirius looked up sharply. "Where did you hear about that?"

Harry realized that he had been caught. "I put it together after seeing it in my dreams. That's what Tonks was guarding, right? The door to the Department of Mysteries. You know what's in there?"

"No, Harry," replied Sirius. "Only Dumbledore does. But, you should be careful with these... dreams that you seem to keep getting. That's why Dumbledore wants you to practice Occlumency. Voldemort likely is sending you those images. For what purpose, I don't know..."

"If only Dumbledore trusted me enough to tell me," stated Harry, frustrated. "Why can't he?"

"Have you considered that Voldemort could steal anything he tells you out of your mind? He could be doing it for security reasons."

"You're right," realized Harry. "But I don't think Voldemort is reading my mind at night."

"You never know, Harry. You never know with Voldemort. Back in the day, when people still tried to fight the man himself, whenever it seemed like the Aurors had finally overwhelmed him, he would reveal this new amazing feat of magic he'd developed and totally reverse the tide of the battle. There was that Muggle bloke who was said to be worth a bunch of men on the battlefield-"

"Napoleon," Harry interjected. "They said he was worth forty thousand men."

"Yes, him. Voldemort, though, is worth forty thousand _wizards_."

"You can't be serious."

"Okay, it's an exaggeration. But he _is_ worth at least forty average wizards. Average wizards are not really all that valuable in the battlefield, you know. They barely know any relevant spells. But I've seen Voldemort take down ten _Aurors_ at once. Don't underestimate any of what he can or can't do."

"I'll keep that in mind, Sirius."

"Now, on a brighter note, Yule is almost here! You aren't going to be _training_ or scheming or anything for the war on a holiday, are you?"

* * *

DUMBLEDORE PLOTTING AGAINST MINISTRY: EVIDENCE UNVEILED

 _The Ministry just yesterday sent an Auror detachment with the Minister himself to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to arrest Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts himself.  
_

 _"We found substantial evidence that he was abusing his position as Headmaster to raise up his own army to overthrow the Ministry," stated Minister Fudge in an interview with the Daily Prophet. "He escaped and is on the loose."_

 _Albus Dumbledore is a highly dangerous wizard, and the Ministry urges all witches and wizards to stay away should they sight him. "If you see him, or have evidence leading to where he might be hiding, please report it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," continued Fudge. "Under no circumstances should you attempt to approach him."_

 _"A student who was brave enough to deny the lies of Dumbledore spoke to me about his subversive activities," related High Inquisitor and new Headmistress Dolores Umbridge. "She implicated Dumbledore and Harry Potter before silenced by a very nasty jinx, no doubt constructed by the former Headmaster himself in an underhanded attempt at silencing dissenters."  
_

 _"Unfortunately," she further told the Prophet, "Harry Potter is still immune. We cannot convict him because the former Headmaster invoked an old Hogwarts measure which prevents us from trying Harry Potter when his actions were pressured by the Headmaster himself. We are sure of his guilt, but once again, like in the Triwizard Tournament, our hands are tied. We will be watching Harry Potter in the future, though, and wait until he reveals his true colors."_

 _This reporter reiterates: she advises readers to be wary of the innocent-looking Boy-Who-Lived; Dolores Umbridge said this in yesterday's story about Harry Potter: "Harry Potter is a rumor-mongering, trouble-making youth who seeks to destabilize society by using his fame. He has consistently shown himself to be immature and reckless in endangering other innocent students." (See page 6, BOY-WHO-KILLED, for a reprint of yesterday's story)._

 **A/N: First, sorry for the delay. Stuff happened. I'm (sort of, not really) back on track. Secondly, the story gets darker: this chapter is an exposition of how to blackmail fathers into doing what you want. What do you do? Hold their child hostage. That too, in an irreversible way...**


	12. 12: Springing a Trap

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, including any content from _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ , recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

 **A/N: Before we begin, do note that I just recently posted Chapter 11: Manipulations and Lies. If you have not read it, I advise that you do.**

School after the break was dull for Harry. There was no Quidditch for him, and no D.A. either. Undoubtedly the Ministry would be watching for many students they think are associated with him going towards the same area. It was readily apparent that Marietta Edgecombe was the traitor, she being the only member absent from the train. Harry was glad, at least, that she was being punished greatly for her transgressions through the nasty jinxes that Hermione had charmed. At least the Room of Requirement had not been revealed, as far as he could tell from the Rita Skeeter article.

Malfoy and co. now were lackeys of Umbridge and had their own Inquisitorial powers. He stayed away from them for the most part.

He now also had two Slytherin girls who hated him, and he had to watch out for anything coming from Pansy. She already proved herself to be aligned with her family's goal of selling him out to Voldemort, and he could see her doing something rash in the name of their now lost ideology. Of course, they didn't even know that their family was no longer aligned with that ideology... She still, though, found ways to punish him through her new powers under Umbridge. He took the point losses and detentions in stride. He assumed that Sirius would find a way to let the Order know of anything important he learns from Parkinson, or that Sirius would tell him. He hadn't heard from Sirius in a bit, so he assumed that the man had little to inform, yet.

McGonagall and Hagrid, too, were gone, driven out by Umbridge and her policies. There was no one he could turn to or trust, besides his friends.

Other students in the hall watched him warily as he walked past, obviously swayed by the two pieces of Ministry propaganda put out during the break.

The dreams of the Department of Mysteries kept coming, too. Almost four weeks of Occlumency "lessons" with Snape did not help, either.

"Clear your mind!" He'd roar, and then cast _Legilimens_ at Harry. It was a brutal method of teaching, and one with which Harry simply could not keep up. Not only that, he was unsure of whether he really _wanted_ to learn Occlumency and block himself to potential information about the Department of Mysteries he could be gleaning from Voldemort.

It was like his last failed lesson with Daphne. She didn't really _want_ to cast the Reductor curse in the same way he didn't really _want_ to be immune to Voldemort's intrusions. Because if he was, then the connection the other way wouldn't work. He _wanted_ to keep seeing the dreams, and that hindered him because of the subconscious intention to _not_ learn Occlumency was present.

And Snape was a terrible teacher who hated him. Harry was not going to be learning Occlumency any time soon.

* * *

 _He jogged down the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries, this time, evidently in a hurry. He pushed open the door and beheld a circle of doors. He pushed one of them open and navigated quickly through the now familiar maze of the department. Finally, he opened the door into a vast hall of indeterminate length, a veritable cavern of glass spheres set upon rows and rows of shelves. He passed the rows, numbers rising along with his slow_ _but steady feeling of anticipation. One, two, three... eleven, twelve, thirteen... twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three... ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three... He reached ninety-seven, and turned into the row, walking towards the end. A dark form lay, silent, on the ground. "Do you value the ones you love, Harry Potter?" he whispered. "Or will you let them continue to suffer?" He suddenly whipped out his wand, and cast. "Crucio!" The man on the ground writhed and screamed. "I'll never give in," replied the now-recognizable Sirius Black from the ground. "You will never get what you want." "That is for only one person to decide," he stated in his high, cruel voice. "Harry Potter, your one hour begins now."_

* * *

Harry woke with a start, panting. It was just a terrible dream, he attempted to convince himself. It was a manipulation by Voldemort. Sirius would never have been caught, he never left the house. But the doubt remained; when was the last time he was contacted by Sirius? He pulled out the mirror.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Sirius Black."

Voldemort's snake-like face appeared in the mirror, and he suppressed the urge jump backwards and yell. "Hello, Harry," the cold tones of his adversary stated. "You needed proof that your dear godfather is in my possession, and here it is. You have fifty-nine minutes. Come alone. All Order of the Phoenix member houses are being watched. Should you contact any of them, I will know." The screen went blank.

He knew it was a trap, but Voldemort had Sirius. Would he sacrifice his godfather for this war? No, he decided. He would not. Even if it meant risking what he had accomplished with Parkinson. Parkinson cared for his daughter, just as Harry cared for Sirius. In a way, Voldemort was just doing the same thing, but to him. I will never give in, nor will I let Sirius die.

He scrambled out of bed, now filled with a sudden urgency. Getting dressed hastily, he gathered his wand and Invisibility Cloak.

"What are you doing, Harry?" came Ron's muffled, sleepy voice.

"Nothing, Ron. Go back to sleep.

Coming to a decision, he rushed over to Neville's bed and shook him awake. The boy blearily opened his eyes. "What?

"Neville - Voldemort's up to something, he talked to me."

"WHAT?"

"He told me to come alone, because if I don't, my godfather will die."

"Your godfather?"

"Sirius Black." Harry tapped his foot impatiently. He couldn't afford to wait much longer.

"Wait, what?"

"I'll explain on the way."

Neville got up and got ready. Every single second felt like a second wasted. In the meantime, he pulled out the D.A. galleon. Even after it was disbanded, everyone probably still had their coins. He set it to 'Wake up!'

They made their way down to the Common Room. There, Hermione, still in her bedclothes, met them. "Harry! Neville! Where are you going?"

"Voldemort's got Sirius," he said. Hermione let out a gasp. "He told me to come alone - I have less than an hour. I want you to try to get Sprout or Flitwick to come to the Ministry after me - Voldemort's watching the Order. Gather the best fighters from the D.A., too, in case they don't believe you. Use the Floo in Hogsmeade." He gave her the master coin.

With that, he rushed out the portrait with Neville right behind him. "So why are we walking into what is obviously a trap?"

"Voldemort has my godfather - I know this for certain, and he told me to come alone. We're stalling for time - I can fit you under an Invisibility Cloak, and hopefully we can distract Voldemort long enough for those reinforcements to arrive."

"Why don't you tell someone... with more authority? Like Dumbledore, if you could contact him."

"The only Order - they're like the anti-Death Eaters - member here is Snape, and I don't trust him, because he's a spy. He's also possibly the reason why my godfather has been captured by Voldemort. The rest of the Order, well, if they do anything he'll kill Sirius. He wants me to be there, alone." He was grim. "If you don't want to come along, I understand."

"I'll come. We have to try to save him, at least."

They reached the statue of the one-eyed witch. " _Dissendium_." It opened, revealing a passage.

"This leads to Honeydukes, where we can then use the Floo to reach the Ministry."

They hurried down the passage, and eventually reached the trapdoor. Rushing out of it, he reached the fireplace, grabbed some Floo powder, and tossed it in. "Ministry of Magic!"

The green rush of fire claimed him.

He was deposited out on the Atrium floor, Neville coming out behind him.

"We need to keep going. We probably only have half an hour left." They made their way to the life, and he directed it to the Department of Mysteries, the floor he had visited so long ago when his trial occurred.

They reached the proper floor. "I want you to put on my Invisibility Cloak, now. We have to go slower. Make sure you don't trip or anything."

Neville complied, and they made their way down the torchlit hallway. He pushed the door open and entered the circular room. He opened a door, unsure of which way to go despite having seen the path countless times in his dreams. They cautiously walked through rooms full of strange gizmos and gadgets. He stopped when he found a cabinet full of Time Turners. He grabbed two and handed one to Neville.

"If I use this and disappear, turn it three times and it'll take you three hours back in time."

They continued on their way, until he opened a door and once more found the large cathedral of glass spheres. One, two, three... eleven, twelve, thirteen... twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three... ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three... ninety-seven. He turned, as he had seen in the vision, and walked up to where Voldemort and Sirius should be. It was empty.

How could this be? There was no way - unless Voldemort was hiding.

"Show yourself, Voldemort," he stated, attempting to master the fear that bubbled up inside of him. "Show yourself."

He studied the surroundings. The glass spheres all had labels, but one stood out to him - it had his name on it.

"S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D," he mused. "Dumbledore knows this?" He reached out and grabbed it.

"Very good, Potter. Now slowly turn around and hand over the prophecy," came the cold tones of Lucius Malfoy.

He quickly turned the Time Turner dangling in front of his chest, but nothing happened.

"Did you really think the Department of Mysteries would leave fully functional Time Turners where many can access, Potter?" asked Malfoy scathingly. "The ones they keep out are the ones that failed in some way. You're lucky to have even survived that, as Rookwood here can attest."

"You said this was a prophecy?" asked Harry, trying to buy time for Hermione's reinforcements to come through.

"Yes. The Dark Lord is most interested in obtaining it, as you well know. Now stop wasting time and hand it over."

"And I suppose Sirius was never captured?" continued Harry. "You must have had Snape steal the mirror. But then why wouldn't he just take Sirius as well?"

"Fool Potter," sneered Malfoy. "Snape was of no use for this plan. Now hand it over!"

"You used Kreacher," he realized. "You had him steal the mirror."

" _Accio_ prophecy!"

Caught off guard, the sphere flew out of Harry's hand. " _Reducto_!" he roared, aiming right at the prophecy. It shattered in front of Malfoy's face into pieces, some shards piercing the man's face. While the Death Eaters paused for a shocked moment, he turned his aim. " _Reducto_!" The shelf tipped. Neville did the same on the other side.

"Take off the Cloak and run!" They ran for the door, dodging falling shelves and shattering glass orbs. They made it through the door, and continued to run, trying to remember how to get back to the circular room. He and Neville sprinted through rooms full of brains, planets, and other odd artifacts stashed in the curious department. Then, they pushed through a door and made it back to the entrance room.

"Where's the exit?" asked Neville, frantic, and a door swung open, revealing the long hallway. The shouts of the Death Eaters were getting louder and louder throughout the place. He continued to sprint, Neville right behind him, his breath coming out in harsh gasps.

They turned a corner and made it into the lifts, even as green lights flashed down, striking the floor as the Death Eaters attempted to stop them from escaping. "Take us to the Atrium!" they shouted. The lift sprang to life and took them back upwards. Both of them took the time to catch their breaths. "They didn't have Sirius," he repeated. "They didn't have Sirius."

"It was a trap, Harry, but it was a well-constructed one. They obviously needed you to take that prophecy, for whatever reason."

Then, his scar began to burn unbearably, and he gasped. "Neville - it's him - he's here - put on the Cloak - run!"

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"He's here - Voldemort!"

The lift clanged to a stop, and the door opened to the Atrium. Neville put on the cloak, and then Harry cautiously and slowly walked out towards the center of the Atrium, his scar still on fire, hoping to buy time for Neville to escape. He continued to walk, as slow as he could without seeming suspicious. "Where are you, Voldemort? Show yourself!"

Another lift door opened behind him, and twelve Death Eaters arranged themselves behind him. "Show yourself!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the fires flare, and he knew that Neville had gotten out.

Then his scar burned more painfully than before, and he gasped as he was driven to his knees, the Dark Lord invading his mind.

 **A/N: So since I felt guilty for being behind schedule by two weeks, here's the** **next chapter, too! As you may have noticed, I got bored of fifth year. Things are going to go off the rails, finally!**


	13. 13: The End of the Beginning

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, including any content from _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ , recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

The immense pressure of Voldemort's presence weighed down his entire being as he fought against the invisible force that probed him. Slowly, but surely, images began to flash by: a massive troll loomed over him, poised to strike; Hermione's still form lay on the bed, her petrified form only inspiring more fear of the legendary Slytherin's Monster; Dementors swooping down, leaning to Kiss Sirius, sucking the life out of his godfather; "Kill the spare," and Cedric fell to the ground, lifeless; the Dementors were catching up to him and Dudley, and he couldn't grasp his wand... _Lumos_ , he managed to mutter, and magically the wand lit up, but it flickered out again, plunging him into absolute darkness.

Harry mustered the resolve to combat Voldemort's inexorable journey through his memories. He thought of his friends. He thought of his family. He thought of Sirius, who was safe and sound back at Grimmauld or elsewhere, who would be devastated if he died here tonight. The crushing weight, the pressure he could not hold back thankfully eased, but the burning pain intensified, until it consumed his own being. As his own screaming got louder and louder, it merged with another's, and he realized that it was _Voldemort_ screaming along side him, both of them bearing unimaginable pain.

Suddenly, it stopped and, disoriented, he felt the cold floor against his face. He grasped his wand underneath him and slowly got up, surveying the twelve Death Eaters that were still arrayed before him. "We meet again, Harry Potter."

He turned to face the sibilant voice of Lord Voldemort, whose pale face was obscured in shadow. Long black robes flowed to the floor.

"Voldemort."

"Once again we meet, Harry, and this time you will not run like a coward... We shall duel again, here at the heart of the corrupt organization which is my true enemy. You have seen it, have you not, Harry? Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge are weak fools, fools who deserve to be crushed underfoot... I told you the day we met that there is no good or evil, but power... can you not see this now?"

"I'll never join you, Voldemort!"

The Dark Lord let out a sinister laugh. "Of course not, Harry Potter, but I can easily sense your anger... But that is neither here nor there. We shall duel again, and we shall finally know who is truly powerful of us two."

Harry darted his eyes about nervously. Where were the reinforcements that Hermione was supposed to gather?

"Your friends will not save you, Harry Potter. Now, first we bow."

Unable to see any other option, he complied with Voldemort's demands.

"And now, we fight."

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

" _Expelliarmus_!"

The brother wands connected in a golden thread, and a golden cage began to form around them. Once again, it was a battle of wills, the struggle between light and dark. His wand vibrated in his hand, and his hand tightened, unable to release the connection. The golden bead at the center shifted back and forth, but it began to slowly make its way towards him, and he realized that he was losing.

"You are weak, Harry Potter. You are weak like the rest of them."

Voldemort's taunts invigorated him, but he was still fighting an uphill battle. It reached him and then he was thrown off his feet backwards by the intensity of the event, breaking the connection.

" _Expelliarmus_." He tried to keep hold of his wand, but it flew up and into Voldemort's waiting hand. "Weak. You don't even put up a fight, relying on a single trick to win you a battle. Those who do not grow stronger are crushed underfoot."

Harry couldn't believe it. All his preparation and training, everything he did up to this point, it was all nothing to Voldemort? The feared Dark Lord even managed to win their battle of wills in a most unexpected way; he had only grown in strength since his resurrection.

"I think I make myself clear, Harry, that I am the superior of the two of us... you are nowhere near my equal and never will be. Now, you shall die, and no longer shall anyone look up to the great Boy-Who-Lived."

Voldemort pointed his wand straight at Harry, and a sudden coldness swept across him. He was going to die, for no reason at all. And with his death, Voldemort might even attempt to take over the Ministry this very night, bolstered by the success. His survival was the only reason why Voldemort didn't immediately declare war on the Wizarding World; his survival meant the continued preoccupation of Voldemort. It had to do with the prophecy that had shattered down in the Department of Mysteries. The situation was hopeless, reminding him of another situation, from the summer, when he was overwhelmed by Dementors and wandless...

" _LUMOS_!" he roared, and his wand in Voldemort's hand glowed a brilliant white, blinding Voldemort and the Death Eaters as he looked away and shielded his eyes. The man stumbled back, dropping the wand, and Harry scrambled towards it desperately, grabbing it even as Voldemort regained his senses. He jabbed his wand into Voldemort's rising form.

" _Reducto_!" The feared Dark Lord went sailing back with the force of the spell, but he was intact, although bleeding from one leg. He had aimed wrong. Perhaps he should have used the Killing Curse, but he had a feeling that Voldemort would simply come back again shortly, what with all of his followers available. Not only that, but their first action would be to kill him before resurrecting the Dark Lord.

"Mere coincidence allows you to live this day, Harry Potter," sneering Lord Voldemort, and he swirled and disappeared, _breaking_ _through the wards_ which surrounded the Ministry. The other Death Eaters left with sharp cracks, following their Lord through the destroyed barrier.

Not a second later, people appeared in the Atrium through the fireplaces, chief among them Minister Fudge, as they finally learned of the great destruction that had been taking place in the Ministry.

"Seize him!" Minister Fudge cried, and two Aurors came up and disarmed him, roughly grabbing him by the wrists and chaining them together. The Minister for Magic looked excited, like a child who had been given chocolates.

"Extensive damage to our center of government, reckless behavior, and more. We'll have you in prison soon enough, Potter."

* * *

HARRY POTTER FINALLY ARRESTED

 _In the early hours of this morning, Harry Potter was found amid a large amount of property damage. After carving a trail of destruction through the lower floors of the Ministry, he attempted to escape through the Atrium, where he was promptly caught and arrested on order of the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge._

 _Fudge had this to say of the arrest: "Harry Potter has finally shown his true colors as a Dumbledore supporter and political dissident. Now that we have captured him, he will be going to Azkaban for a long time."  
_

 _His trial took place in the afternoon. "We were unable to find any evidence of Albus Dumbledore's location from him, but Dumbledore undoubtedly helped him in the destruction of our hallowed center of government," continued the Minister in an exclusive interview. "Dumbledore is still on the loose."  
_

 _"The disgraced former Headmaster is under no circumstances to be approached," stated Dolores Umbridge, his successor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "If you see him, or have any evidence pertaining to him, contact the Ministry. Attempting to aid him in any way is considered treason against Magical Britain by the Ministry."  
_

 _The High Inquisitor and Headmistress also spoke, addressing concerned parents: "If you believe your child has associated with Harry Potter in the past, make sure that his dangerous and destabilizing ideas do not influence them. The very same night Potter's accomplices attempted to create a distraction at Hogwarts, no doubt meant to fuel the chaos he intended to sow. His unwitting helpers have been caught and will be disciplined for their crimes."  
_

 _This reporter can only be glad that Harry Potter is safely behind bars for his numerous crimes, including the murder of Hogwarts Triwizard Champion Cedric Diggory and helping Albus Dumbledore recruit for a subversive group which Dumbledore intended to manipulate to overthrow the Ministry. (See page 7, HARRY POTTER'S CRIMES, for an exposition on this topic)._

* * *

The wooden boat departed from the shore of Britain, heading towards the infamous Azkaban prison. Aboard stood four Auror guards, and shackled to the boat itself sat a teenage boy with messy black hair and green eyes. Those eyes betrayed a weary resignation even as the boat inched closer and closer to the dark atmosphere that the desolate prison exuded.

The air began to chill as the boat went further along its path, and the youth shivered in the unnatural cold. One of the Aurors grimaced. Though wrapped in multiple layers, the all-pervasive cold affected every being on the boat, making them feel as if they could never be happy again.

The source of this emotion were the feared guards of Azkaban, the Dementors, who in their restless state seemed to magnify the sense of despair which surrounded the impenetrable black fortress. The twisted beings longed for freedom, knowing that the Dark Lord Voldemort had returned, but for the time being contented themselves with feeding from the emotions and souls of the tormented prisoners within.

The occupants of the boat could only be thankful that the forbidding island, which succeeded in keeping its prisoners in for centuries until Barty Crouch Jr., was not yet in sight, and the Aurors consoled themselves with the thought that they did not have to bear the six month long shift guarding the prison.

Harry Potter considered his fate. He was to end up in Azkaban, hopefully only until Voldemort made his official return. Then, the Ministry would see the truth and they would let him out. This would also likely be too late. What else was he to do, though, but suck it up and placidly follow the guards' orders? Voldemort was right - Cornelius Fudge _was_ a weak fool. He was too afraid to accept the truth, and for that many people would suffer, including himself.

How long would he last in prison? Voldemort probably was taking a sick amusement out of the fact that he would slowly waste away in a dank prison for a crime he didn't commit, just like Sirius. At least Sirius was an Animagus and managed to weather more than a decade in Azkaban; however, he was not. It was likely that he would leave only a shell of his former self, or even worse, insane like Bellatrix Lestrange. And that hinged upon the assumption that he would at some point be let out. The hastily put together trial was unclear on that particular of his extended visit.

A black device dropped from the pockets of one of the Aurors, and hit the bottom of the boat with barely a sound. The chained boy shifted, attempting to see what it was. It shuffled around on the bottom of the boat for a bit, before letting out a loud blast, piercing the ears of everyone and distracting them as they brought their hands to their ears - except the prisoner, who was afforded no such luxury.

Then the small device released large clouds of black smoke, obscuring the air so that none could see. Three bright red flashes lit up the air, and as the smoke cleared, Harry Potter was granted the view of a familiar pink-haired woman emerging from the fog.

"Tonks!"

"You didn't think we'd abandon you, did you, Harry?" She reached down and searched one of the Aurors' pockets, finding a key. She quickly unlocked the chains which bound Harry to the boat. "And it's not like I have much else to do but rescue you, what with me being fired from the Auror Corps."

"We'll need to hightail it out of here. The Ministry's probably already noticed the missing Auror. I stuffed him in an alley outside the entrance." She fumbled around in her pockets, finally withdrawing a musty old sock. She wrinkled her nose. "This wasn't my idea, by the way. Grab hold."

Harry complied, reaching out for the sock and grasping it with his hand. They stood for about a minute, awkwardly holding an old sock, until it glowed blue. He felt the familiar pull behind his navel as the Portkey activated, continuing until it unceremoniously deposited him on a street. Behind him, Tonks rose. He looked up, and saw the familiar sight of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He was home.

 **A/N: And that was when the car came around the bend and smashed into him, barreling straight through him. This chapter sucks for Harry, doesn't it? He failed terribly a bunch of times. Also, how do you guys like the _Prophet_ articles?** **  
**


	14. 14: It's Gonna Explode!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, including any content from _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ , recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

Sirius was waiting inside. He engulfed Harry in a hug. "I'm glad you're alright."

"I'm fine, just a little shaken up."

"The rest of the Order is waiting in the kitchen. You should go there so they know you're safe. And then you're going to explain, to me, exactly what happened over these last twenty four hours or so."

He made his way into the large room downstairs. "I'm here," he stated simply.

"Harry, dear, thank the heavens you're well!" Mrs. Weasley came running up and hugged him even tighter than Sirius had.

"No, really, Mrs. Weasley, I'm alright. It's good Tonks was there to get me out of Azkaban."

"I was only glad to help."

"She wasn't the only one." Moody came limping through the door as usual. "I was in a Disillusioned boat rowing parallel to yours, waiting to jump in if the situation needed to be rectified," he stated in his usual gruff voice. "Good job on that, Tonks."

The Metamorphmagus, to her credit, took his compliment in stride.

Harry, though, was surprised. "You can Disillusion whole boats?"

"It takes an incredibly talented wizard, one skilled in the art of disguise."

Harry remembered a conversation he held with Dumbledore back in his first year. "Like Dumbledore."

"Yes. But for the sake of plausible deniability it could have been anyone. Now, I heard quite a story from your friend Longbottom."

"Neville. He got out alright, I remember."

"Indeed. He gave us back your Invisibility Cloak and we managed to get your stuff back before the Ministry could lay its hands on it." He jerked a finger upwards. "It's all upstairs, just waiting to be opened. But first, you'll tell us exactly what happened."

Harry sat down and began his story. "I had a vision where Voldemort had captured Sirius and was torturing him in the Department of Mysteries."

Sirius frowned. "You know that Voldemort could easily be influencing this visions of yours. As much as I hate Snape, he's right that you needed to close off your mind."

"He talked to me directly, in the dream, and told me to come alone. I _knew_ that it was influenced by Voldemort, but it seemed pretty clear that he wasn't bluffing," countered Harry. "And he said he was watching the Order, so I'd actually have to come alone. Well, I sort of panicked and roused Neville and Hermione. I took Neville with me under the Cloak, as you know, and told Hermione to ask Professor Flitwick for help," he continued. "Said help never arrived."

"Umbridge caught Hermione and a couple other members of your club sneaking around at night," spoke up Remus Lupin. "It was the worst possible thing that could have happened for you."

"You know what happened as I went with Neville down to the Department of Mysteries - we were ambushed in the big room with rows and rows of prophecies."

"Your gullibility that night showed no sign of vigilance whatsoever," Moody noted, "But your escape was damn well impressive. Managing to stay intact among falling rows of prophecies and exploding glass without any protective magic - not to mention your precise shot at Malfoy. I bet the damn snake won't show his face for days."

"Yeah, well, we managed to get back to the lifts, and that was when my scar started burning, and I knew that Voldemort had arrived." People flinched throughout the room. "I made Neville leave under the Cloak, and confronted him."

"What happened?" asked Lupin.

"He invaded my mind, trying to possess me. I barely managed to push him out in the end, at great pain to both him and myself. And then he challenged me to a duel."

Harry described the events of the duel, recounting how Voldemort had turned the Priori Incantatem back on him - including an explanation of the brother wand effect for those who didn't already know.

"That wandless trick of yours is also impressive. I think I can mold you into a good fighter in no time."

Harry looked up, surprised. "What else are you going to do, now that you're kicked out of school, eh, Potter? Clean up the house? No, we're going to train you, make you one of our own. You still have a role to play in this war."

"If _he_ gets to actually do things as a wanted fugitive, then I'd better be able to go outside the house," complained Sirius.

"Perhaps, perhaps not, Black," growled Moody.

"What about your trial? What happened there?" Tonks asked this time.

"They took me before a couple of people who were obviously Fudge lackeys, as well as Umbridge and Fudge himself. Predictably, it didn't take long for their verdict. They fed me Veritaserum, but they only asked me about whether I had caused the damage, which I technically did, and for the location of Dumbledore, as well as a list of all the rules I had broken. I was only a third of the way through my list before they grew tired and just decided to chuck me into Azkaban, figuring that since I didn't know where Dumbledore was and was 'unable' to say where Sirius was, I didn't actually know much of value."

"They didn't even ask you about whether Voldemort was back?" asked Sirius.

"No, and they probably would've rationalized that my mind constructed it in my head due to my delusional state or something. Anything but confront the truth."

"One thing still doesn't make sense to me," pointed out Lupin. "Why did you just immediately run to the Ministry? You could've contacted Sirius through the mirror."

"I did use the mirror, but Voldemort answered the mirror." Gasps rang throughout the room. "That was actually when he told me to come alone."

Remus' eyes narrowed. "How did he get his hands on the mirror?"

Sirius', for his part, widened. "Kreacher. I ordered him out of the house sometime over the winter holidays. He must've gone running to my _dear_ cousins, the little bastard," he growled out. "KREACHER!"

The old house-elf appeared with a pop. "Vile master calls Kreacher. How Kreacher wishes to clear mistress' house of the filthy Mudbloods and blood-traitors -"

"SHUT UP!" Sirius took a deep breath. "Did you steal my mirror and give it to Voldemort?"

"Kreacher did not give nasty master's mirror to the Dark Lord, no, Kreacher didn't."

He took another deep breath. "Did you steal my mirror?"

"Yes, Kreacher gave master's mirror to Mistress Bella, yes, he did..."

"Dammit!" he swore. "Kreacher, go to your attic and don't leave the house unless I order you to. And don't interfere with any of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Kreacher will follow nasty masters' orders." The decrepit house-elf left the kitchen.

"I guess that's the end of this meeting, then,"

declared Sirius.

"Wait," cautioned Lupin. "If Voldemort has the mirror, then he can unravel the connective magic behind it..."

"...and possibly exploit it to damage us from the inside. He can't compromise the Fidelius, but he could try something else," finished Moody. "We need to destroy it, or get it far away from the building," he concluded.

The two men rushed upstairs, Harry and Sirius hot on their heels. They rushed up to the trunk, which was propped against the wall in Harry's room, and Lupin frantically opened the trunk, reaching for the mirror.

"Wait, it could be trapped!" was all Moody could exclaim before the scarred werewolf grasped the mirror, yelped as it left burns on his fingers. He jumped back.

His touched seemed to set off something in the mirror, because it began buzzing at a higher and higher frequency, and began to glow red.

"It's going to explode!" Moody banished the mirror towards the window with his wand, and the other three dived back out of the room.

Right as the mirror impacted the glass, it let loose a fiery explosion of magic, and Moody put up a shield just in time which only barely held against the fiery onslaught. As the flames died down, the explosion exhausted, the four occupants of the room stared at the hole that now existed in the side of the building, as well as the destruction and fire that started in the building right next to it.

Moody collected his wits first. "We need to clean up the debris in the other house before the Muggle police arrive. It's pretty hard to explain something like that, but if we get there in time it could be a spontaneous gas explosion or something."

* * *

Lord Voldemort leaned back in the head chair of the Malfoys' dining table. He was temporarily using the manor as a base of operations, as he preferred to avoid using Riddle manor, the property of such filth, unless as a last resort, like during the previous year. Lucius Malfoy, face showing the scars where glass had pierced his face, exited the room, having informed his Lord of the most recent developments.

The Dark Lord frowned. Harry Potter had escaped yet again, both from him and from Ministry custody. And that too without letting him access the contents of the prophecy. The child's defiant words had scared him, a little, although he would never be caught admitting it to anyone. Dumbledore knew the prophecy, and no doubt would tell the boy, now that their connection was nigh impossible to utilize, without the immense pain that had arisen at the end of their mental duel.

On the other hand, though, his plans were progressing. Most of the dark creatures had rallied to his call, only the Dementors not following him to maintain the charade for the Ministry. Speaking of the Ministry, Fudge still was unaware of his return, and Harry Potter and Dumbledore were outlaws. While that was good, and hindered his enemies from countering his growing power, he needed to get rid of the old fool before moving on the conquer the Ministry. But he was patient this time around, unlike the last. If worst came to worst, he could even wait out a generation, until Dumbledore died, and then emerge from the shadows to take over Magical Britain, purge the fool Muggles, and then, finally, conquer the world. Nothing would stop him from achieving his goal, now that he had returned to physical form. For nothing could kill him - he had buried his Horcruxes far and deep, and only the diary had been destroyed by the incompetence of Lucius. His family would pay dearly for that mistake.

Furthermore, he now knew the location of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. The exploding debris, which blew through the dimensional barrier that kept the house hidden from standard reality under the Fidelius, immediately told him where it was. It was located, in fact, right where the old Black family house was, but obscured by the Fidelius, which made sense. The Black house had in fact not been demolished, as was believed. Instead, Dumbledore was using it for his pet organization. That was of no concern - his Death Eaters would be watching the space between Eleven and Thirteen Grimmauld Place constantly from now on.

* * *

HARRY POTTER ESCAPES MINISTRY CUSTODY

 _In a surprising twist of fate, Harry Potter, convicted for the destruction of Ministry property, also the perpetrator of the murder of Cedric Diggory, escaped from a boat on the way to Azkaban. "We are still unsure how he managed to escape," reports Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, "But one Auror was found tied up in an alleyway, alerting us to the situation. Most likely someone impersonated the missing Auror and knocked out Harry Potter's guards en route to Azkaban."_

 _The boat was found floating free in the middle of the ocean._

 _"It is clear that Harry Potter had outside help," noted Minister Fudge. "Be on the lookout for any suspicious behavior, and report it to the Ministry immediately. We are now offering a reward of a hundred galleons for information leading to the capture of Harry Potter, and a thousand galleons for Albus Dumbledore."_

 _With both Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore on the loose, the Ministry has released guidelines for recognizing family members and friends. Agree upon a question to ask each other when you meet, to confirm identities. "It is better do this than risk exposing yourself to these two dangerous individuals," Fudge continued. "I would rather all citizens of Magical Britain be safe from these criminals."_

 **A/N: And so the saga continues, with another setback for our heroes!**

 **Also, I'd like to announce that I am relatively close to completing a short story of only a couple of chapters, a so-called "dimensional travel fic," subverting all/most of the standard tropes of reality travel. I'll probably announce its release in one of these chapters, but be on the lookout for it anyway, because if you can read 35k of this, you can surely read it. And review it. And review this. (hint, hint)**


	15. 15: The Exposition Dump

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, including any content from _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ , recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

Moody, Lupin, and Tonks managed to get rid of evidence of magical influence before Muggle authorities arrived on the scene. Unfortunately, this incident likely informed Voldemort as to the location of the Order Headquarters.

"We've got to be careful with transportation," noted Moody. "The Floo system is likely now being monitored by the Ministry, and Apparition must occur precisely to the steps in front of the house."

Harry's life had substantially changed. His friends couldn't write letters due to the risk of interception, and even during the holidays it would be dangerous for them to even meet him, just in case Umbridge and the Ministry decided to ask questions and otherwise interrogate them when school resumed. Instead, Moody, Sirius, and Tonks took it upon themselves to train them, while Lupin attempted to cover for the rest of his classes.

Moody was at times frustratingly demeaning ("If you can't beat Tonks, you can't beat a high-ranking Death Eater without huge amounts of luck. Though that's one thing you don't have little of, Potter, when it runs out you'd better be vigilant.") as well as complimentary ("Keep on pulling off tricks like this, and you might just be able to surprise an Inner Circle member enough to kill them. Might."). Sirius, Tonks, and Lupin were supportive as always.

Forces continued to gather, both dark and light. Nothing of import happened, though, until two weeks after the Ministry incident.

* * *

"Harry, Dumbledore's here," informed Sirius. "He wants to see you in the drawing room."

When he arrived on the first floor, he was greeted by the man who he hadn't seen since before the winter holidays. "Hello, Professor."

"Call me Albus, Harry. I am no Professor of anything right now," he sighed, "and I make it a point to be less formal with my former students."

They both sat down. "I have a confession to make, Harry. I should have been more truthful to you about the nature of your Occlumency practice, and perhaps events would not have led to where they are today, and you might have still been in school, surrounded by your friends. You see, before you were born a prophecy was made - one that foretold the fall of a Dark Lord. Naturally, I safeguarded this information, going so far as to offer the one who made the prophecy, Sibyll Trelawney, a safe job at Hogwarts, protected from Voldemort's forces."

"Trelawney?" blurted Harry. "But Trelawney's a fraud - everyone knows that!"

"Does everyone, Harry? Or just your friend Miss Granger?"

Thinking back, though, Harry had heard a legitimate prophecy, one that foretold Peter Pettigrew's actions. "Fine. I'll bite. And let me guess - it was me the prophecy was about."

"Not quite, Harry," corrected the former Headmaster. "Perhaps I should simply show to you what it is." He gestured to the corner of the room, where sat the Pensieve which used to reside in the Headmaster's Office. They rose and came close.

The figure of Professor Trelawney in a trance-like state rose out of the clear liquid.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

Harry sat back down heavily. "I was born at the end of July, he marked me as his equal, and one of us must die. And I assume my parents defied Voldemort thrice. Great."

"Before the prophecy was made, though, it could have been Neville Longbottom. He too was born at the end of July, to parents who had defied Voldemort three times. For reasons unfathomable he viewed you as the larger threat, despite the views he espoused. Perhaps he felt a kinship with you, both sharing Muggle and wizard blood. Perhaps he saw in you the potential to become powerful like him. Whatever it was that he thought, he chose to attack you that night."

"My parents died because he arbitrarily chose based on a prophecy by an unproven seer. And now I have the burden of prophetic duty heaped upon my shoulders because of it," remarked Harry bitterly. "And just how did he know what the prophecy stated? I thought it was given to you. Wasn't he trying to get the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries?"

Dumbledore sighed. "A follower of Voldemort overheard the first half of the prophecy and managed to get word back to his leader. So Voldemort knew who you were, but not your true potential."

"And just what is this 'power the Dark Lord knows not?'"

"It could be anything, Harry, but I believe that there is a fundamental distinction between you and Voldemort; you value human life, so much that you would be willing to go to great measures, detrimental to yourself and even others, to make sure that the most people live. This, though, can rapidly become a slippery slope - you must be careful about the choices you make, and you must establish lines past which you will never cross. You, I feel, have done this; Voldemort has not. Your great equalizer is the heroic spirit, the determination and dogged will that men like Tom simply cannot have; you fight for something greater than trivialities of blood or power. Even when he had overpowered you in the Ministry, both mentally and physically, you managed to fight back and survive. You are resilient."

Harry was surprised, but could not refute Dumbledore's argument. "Yet, it is not only about surviving, but defeating Voldemort. Vanquishing him. How do I do that when I am overpowered, outmatched, and when he can come back from death?"

"You are not alone, Harry. I will help you to the end of my days against him. And I believe I have leads on how to render Voldemort mortal once more. As I said, there are no lines he will not cross to achieve his goals and put to rest his fears. He fears death. He delved into magics best left untouched in his quest for immortality, magics far viler than any unicorn blood. He created what are know as Horcruxes."

The sinister term sent shivers down Harry's back. "What are Horcruxes, sir?"

"They are a piece of the soul, torn off in an act of incredible hate, stored in a nigh-indestructible object. They can even form an embodiment of a person's will, to an extent. In ancient times, Herpo the Foul created one, as did a couple other dark wizards. Voldemort, though, I believe to have created more. At least four, I think."

"The diary was one of them." Harry was quick to catch on.

"Yes, and it was a great tipoff to the nature of his immortality. But since you destroyed it, I was unable to determine whether it was advanced magic or actual soul-based magic. The nature of the resurrection ritual, though, leaves no doubt as to how Tom anchored himself to life."

"Now, with that in mind, I want you to view some memories in the Pensieve pertaining to the possible nature of the Horcruxes. They deal with everything from a young Voldemort, to his first career, and yield possible artifacts that he might have used. You see, Tom Riddle is vain; he would not store his soul in any musty sock or tattered boot as we wizards might make Portkeys. He would only use great items, items of power or significance."

Dumbledore rose again, and gestured for Harry to do the same. "Now, then, we shall attempt to enter the mind of a young Tom Riddle and determine what he used to create Horcruxes, as well as how many he has created."

* * *

The memories suggested that Voldemort had used a family ring of his, Hufflepuff's cup, and Slytherin's locket as Horcruxes. However, Harry and Dumbledore were still unsure as to how many Horcruxes Voldemort had created.

Dumbledore had showed him the recollection of Horace Slughorn, heavily modified so that it seemed as if Slughorn had not enabled Voldemort in any way by talking about Horcruxes. Thus, their first task was to locate Slughorn, gain the original memory from him, and their other tasks were to locate these items. "I have some good suspicions as to where Tom may have hidden one of his artifacts," related Dumbledore, "but it is likely that each is in a different place. However, Voldemort entrusted a Horcrux to Lucius Malfoy - one of his more faithful followers. Reason dictates that he may have done the same with other Inner Circle members."

"To that end," continued the former Headmaster, "I want you to instruct your spy, Lord Parkinson, to attempt to look for any sort of information about this. Make it discreet."

Harry stiffened. "Sir, you know... about...?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Of course I knew from the first moment the retribution you inflicted on the Greengrass family, and your scheme with the Parkinsons. You talked about it with Sirius, and you, even before, left clear unspoken evidence of these facts." He chuckled. "We in our youthful self-confidence sometimes forget or underestimate the old fossils like me. Why, back when I was apprenticed to Nicholas, he would routinely get the better of me, constantly surprising me by jumping out at corners to startle me. Perhaps we sententious old fools simply have no better reason to exist than to put pretentious young fools in their place."

"But the non-disclosure agreement - "

"Will not seek retribution if it is an unknowing violation, and an unknowing violation only," interrupted Dumbledore. "And while what you did may have been questionable, the base impulse behind it all was to protect your friends and surrogate family members, was it not? To make sure that less people died? Here is a way to do this, Harry, and assuage your guilt. Severus is not in a position to show too much interest in anything even tangentially related to this topic - but the bootlicking Lord Parkinson could easily be brushed off as trying to gain Voldemort's favor, or awestruck by Tom and his strange version of 'gratitude.'"

"I will instruct him to do so," agreed Harry, still thunderstruck that Dumbledore knew of his 'extracurricular activities' with the goblins and at Gringotts.

"I also have one thing to ask of Lord Greengrass, by proxy through you," continued the senescent mage. "I want him to put an argument before the Wizengamot to militarize the Ministry. The rationale would be to combat the terroristic actions of the outlaws, Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. The real reason, though, would be to ready them for when Voldemort decides to make his strike. The actual details are less of a problem, but making it harder to corrupt the Ministry or use the Imperious, as well as a general state of combat readiness would be preferable."

Harry saw the logic in that. "But Professor -"

"Albus."

"But... Albus, isn't that a little... underhanded?"

"Do you think that I in my old age am incapable of being cunning, that I am incapable of being smart and circumspect?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well... no..." stuttered out Harry, embarrassed.

"I did lead the Wizarding World's effort against Grindelwald," he pointed out. "Fifty years ago or not, I still am capable, I assure you," Dumbledore continued, amused. The former Headmaster of Hogwarts rose from his seat and made for the door.

"And Harry," added Dumbledore, turning around just before he exited the drawing room, "do try not to enslave any more members of magical society. Though I am technically no longer the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I think I can still determine that this is not a recommendable course of action." With that humorous, but slightly cautionary and serious remark, the wise wizard swept out of the room.

 **A/N: Finally back with another chapter. Let's just say that Internet responsibilities do not take precedence over the others. Or you could call me a procrastinator. I finally admit defeat to the one-chapter-a-week rule; the chapter debt is too high to pay off. We'll try a one-chapter-per-two-weeks rule and see how that works out.**

 **And I'm trying to write stuff other than just this...**


	16. 16: Magic is Might

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, and any content recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

In the early hours of the morning, an owl flapped towards the old, stately manor. It descended over the many acres of farmland and began tapping at a window.

The sharp tapping quickly roused Lord Parkinson from his sleep. He rose, and, groggily opening the window, accepted the letter attached to the owl's foot. Then he close the window, and the owl flapped away.

He ripped the envelope open, and as he read the first line, sudden clarity replaced tiredness. After mechanically scanning the rest of the letter for instructions, he brought out his wand and pressed the tip to the parchment.

" _Incendio_ ," he whispered, and the letter crumbled to ashes.

Then he reverted back to his groggy state, and he would wonder at the mess on the floor in the morning.

 _Find the artifacts_ , whispered his subconscious. _Report back to the master_.

* * *

In another manor, a Lord of similar stature was already dressed for the day when an owl arrived. He opened the letter, and found a mirror with a note.

 _Find a quiet place,_ said the note, _and await my message._

He knew instantly who this was from - Harry Potter. This child had outwitted and embarrassed him, and now had the audacity to order him around. He would play Harry Potter's game, though, as long as the Boy-Who-Lived held the upper hand.

He called Daphne, settled into his chair, and waited. She soon arrived and sat as well.

"A message from your _husband_ ," he explained. "I thought it be wise for you to observe."

The mirror began to buzz, and then the face of Harry Potter came into focus, surrounded by trees.

"Potter! I have half a mind to turn you in right now," said Lord Greengrass.

"And I'm glad to see you too. Really. No, I have a simple request, and then I'm out of here."

"You have demanded too much from this family already! I tell you, if it weren't for -"

"I don't care," cut off Harry. "It's simple, really. I want the Ministry mobilized for war. You have enough power to propose it."

Lord Greengrass gaped. "Are you mad? The political climate in the Wizengamot is opposed to any of your suggestions - this included. It is madness to think this will do anything."

"Simply suggest that it is to rally against Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and the Order of the Phoenix. Or is that too hard for you?"

"You're an arrogant fool, Potter, if you think that'll do you any good," said Daphne. "And when you're dead we'll finally be free."

"Yes, we will do it," decided Lord Greengrass. "But be warned that you will come under heavy fire because of it."

"I think I know what I'm doing," said Harry. "It's no different than how I got away from _your_ marriage proposal."

"It _is_ different, and I will enjoy seeing you fail," said Lord Greengrass.

"Just do it, and as soon as possible! And Daphne," added Harry, "keep an eye on my friends, will you? _Neither_ of us want them to get hurt, yes?"

The mirror went blank.

Lord Greengrass stood up, fuming. "He dares. He dares! He should just leave us alone for the rest of his life, rather than continue to antagonize us! Why can he not?"

"There's nothing we can do about _this_ , father. But when the time comes, he'll wish he never messed with us."

"Indeed," said Lord Greengrass, clasping his hands together. "Indeed. For pawns may be weaker than the rest, but they are far from helpless."

* * *

Harry closed the mirror, sighing. He buried the mirror in the dirt of the Forest of Dean, and then walked back to Sirius.

"It's done," he said. "We can go back, now."

He took his godfather's arm, and they Apparated back to the first step of Twelve Grimmauld Place. Blatant 'hidden' Death Eaters shifted across the street every couple of minutes, reminding them of the specter of Voldemort. Now that he had found Headquarters, everyone needed to be just a little careful.

They opened the door and walked down the hall. Dumbledore was waiting.

"Professor - Albus, I mean." Harry stumbled over his greeting. "Why are you here and not doing more important stuff?"

"I have located Horace. It seems that in the increasing darkness he has seen signs of Voldemort's rising power and deciding to seclude himself away in an attempt to escape reality. We need his memory, nothing more."

"Let's go, then."

"A word of caution before we go, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Horace Slughorn is an intensely private man, and simply barging in and asking for his memories will not suffice, nor will brute force. We must be careful and subtle in our suggestions, and persuade him to give up what he may well view as his greatest mistake. Are you sure you are ready for such delicate conversation, Harry? The knowledge to defeat Tom may well be with this man."

"I'm ready," decided Harry. "We can't waste any more time."

"No, we cannot." Dumbledore looked especially tired these days. "Let us go."

The wise old wizard swept past Harry and Sirius, robes trailing, and Harry hurried to follow.

* * *

The chamber of the Wizengamot slowly filled with its members, the Lords who represented the many respected Houses which had ruled Magical Britain for ages. It was still quite early in the morning, and most of the wizards there had little chance to get ready or dress up for the event because they had been notified barely hours ago.

Lord Greengrass had used the Greengrass family's one chance to call a full meeting of the Wizengamot for this decade. He stood at the center of the vast floor, the members looking imperiously down on him from all angles.

To speak to the Wizengamot was always a daunting task, even more so during a full session which had been called in such short notice. The other Lords would likely judge what he had to say harshly, but _Harry Potter_ decided he needed to do it as soon as possible, which, he cynically thought to himself, was about three hours ago when he had received the message. He barely had time to pen an outline of what he wished to say; he would have to improvise most of it. He quickly ran over what he needed to say - or rather, what Harry Potter wanted him to say - to make sure he didn't get it wrong. Because failure was not an option. It never was to the Greengrass family. That didn't mean, however, that he would not weave his own agenda into this meeting. There was no way he was going to waste the precious opportunity which only came once in ten years.

He pointed his wand to his throat, intoning, " _Sonorus_!"

He cleared his throat, and the room quieted down.

"As some of you may be aware, Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore were sighted just two hours ago, information that I provided our Aurors with. They managed to escape. I decided to call this meeting because what they do and stand for is a growing problem for this hallowed body. And today, they managed to escape once more.

"Their target was Horace Slughorn, former potions master of Hogwarts. Presumably, they wished to recruit him for his skills. Our Aurors, on the trail of Potter and Dumbledore, found their position, and... he was killed in the crossfire.

"We all remember Professor Slughorn from our days of Hogwarts, and the older ones of you in the crowd surely remember the days before Albus Dumbledore. Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore wanted to advance their cause and dear Horace said no. All of the lives that they have touched, like his, have been tainted by misery and darkness.

"I come before you, therefore, to plead for more action against these twisted people. Our Aurors toil and do the best they can, but it is not enough. What we need, my friends, is the remilitarization of this great state. It was _Britain_ who led the fight against Grindelwald during the Great War, our mighty wizards overcoming the Germans! It is _Britain_ which remains the feared nation in the magical world, and our name is both cursed and revered wherever you may go! Our colonies stretch far and wide, a symbol of our power!"

The pureblood Lords began to shout and clap, concurring with the Greengrass patriarch.

"Why, then," he asked as the din settled down, "are we hampered by a teenage boy and a man far past his prime? There is simply no explanation for it. They fight in the shadows, yes, but we have the full might of Magical Britain on our side.

"We need a revival of the Auror forces - new equipment, better training, more people. Because Dumbledore and Potter do not just seek to continue terrorism - their approach of Horace Slughorn is enough proof of this. They need resources beyond what simple home-brewed potions can provide. They want to overthrow our government, and lay waste to the hallowed form of government that has sustained us and brought victory to us throughout the ages.

"But we will not stand for that! We, the legitimate government of the land, will not stand for Dumbledore's lies and manipulations. He has sunk his long fingers into our government too often - there was even a dark period when he presided over us. We look back and see the worst decisions ever made then - and the substandard education level at Hogwarts, which we have rectified.

"If we can correct Hogwarts, long a symbol of Dumbledore's power, why can we not strike back at his insurgent forces?

"Mobilize, I say, and crush the enemy. Dumbledore would have us all slaves to the Muggles, exploited by evil for its own gain. But we are not weaker than the filthy Muggles, we are not weaker than Dumbledore's allies. We will show Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter why the kings of old feared us, why they tried to herd us like animals and burn us at the stake! We will reveal to them why the Muggles will never and can never be better than us! We will show them, show the world, that MAGIC IS MIGHT!"

The room burst into applause, standing up and continually cheering.

In one section, though, those standing were not applauding. These were those who promoted equality, and, to a certain extent, Dumbledore's policy. But what was essentially a mob had formed in the room. They would stop at nothing to see Dumbledore and Harry Potter demolished. These individuals disagreed, seeing Dumbledore as a symbol of what was good about the magical world, a symbol of progress and hope. Such a thing could not be tarnished by a million eloquent speeches, could not be compromised by a years' worth of rousing patriotism.

They stood nonetheless, and some feigned approval, so that they not be singled out. The atmosphere in the Wizengamot had just gotten much more dangerous, and any Dumbledore supporters who had any minor doubts about whether the respected figure was right about Voldemort being back knew, then, that the Dark Lord had returned. Why else would the world be slowly shrouded in darkness? The tradition of Hogwarts was compromised by the Ministry, and then Dumbledore was removed. Finally came this, after Harry Potter was declared a fugitive. Even if the man was not back, Dumbledore's pleas still were true in that they indicated a revival of Death Eaters, of the pureblood agenda. But it was too late to go back and change the past. For better or for worse, the balance had shifted towards the conservative purebloods, whose patriotic and rousing speeches could now sway even the most apathetic neutral.

Lord Greengrass had just released the Nundu from its cage, and it would not go quietly back.

* * *

LORD GREENGRASS SPEAKS - WIZENGAMOT PASSES NEW ACT

 _The morning saw a convention of all the major Heads of families in the Wizengamot, called together in a full meeting by Lord Greengrass. His rousing speech to mobilize the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and to hunt down terrorists Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. Harry Potter, the reader may recall, killed Hogwarts Champion during the Triwizard Tournament nearly a year ago and helped Dumbledore's ultimately unsuccessful attempts to recruit Hogwarts students. He was finally convicted for widespread destruction of the Ministry of Magic. The Wizengamot, in reaction to Lord Greengrass's pleas, enacted a new law, designated the Greengrass Act, to provide more galleons to the DMLE and grant it new powers. Under the act, the Wizengamot has also formed a committee to supervise the DMLE._

 _"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has long been a recruitment camp for followers of Dumbledore," replied Lord Greengrass to questions about the act. "The committee will make sure that the new mobilization will not be compromised by Albus Dumbledore or his followers."_

 _Lord Greengrass himself has declined a seat on the committee. When asked, he had to say this about the refusal: "I have done what needs to be done here in the Wizengamot, and see no further role that I must play in the implementation of this act. I am no expert in running a government, much less a military. I run a potions business, and will continue to supply the Ministry with what they need to win the coming battle."_

 _To this reporter's concerns of backlash due to militarization from the International Confederation of Wizards, he replied, "The ICW is an archaic body which wishes to restrict the rights of individual countries," further noting that it "long has been a breeding-ground for Muggle apologists and Dumbledore cohorts."_

 _(See page 7, LIFE AND LIES, to read more about the heinous crimes against wizardkind committed by Albus Dumbledore during and before the Great War against Grindelwald.)_

 **A/N: Remember that fic I promised, with reality travel shenanigans and whatnot? No? Well, its first chapter is out, under the title "Fractured Realities." Give it a try - if only because that title sounds badass.**


	17. 17: Death of a Potioneer

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, and any content recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

Harry and Dumbledore disappeared off of the top step of Twelve Grimmauld Place and reappeared in a meadow which stretched in all directions, terminating at a cliff, overlooked by a house on the cliff's edge. They began walking towards the house.

"Are you sure we should have asked Greengrass to mobilize the DMLE?" asked Harry.

"We have supporters in the DMLE to make sure any pureblood crusade will remain checked and under control," replied Dumbledore. "It is more to remind Voldemort of the futility of attacking the Ministry. He will fail, as he did before."

"But what if he controls this army instead, using fear and propaganda to wrest power from the people?"

"Our safeguards and friends in the DMLE and the Wizengamot will make sure that this eventuality never occurs, Harry."

By now they had reached the gate which enclosed the house off from the rest of the meadow. Dumbledore reached up and knocked.

"What if he reports us to the authorities?"

"He will not, Harry. He fears Tom enough to decide to help us."

After several long moments, the gate swung open, inviting them in. As they entered, the gate swung shut.

They walked along the path to the front door, and it creaked open.

"Welcome to the house of Horace Slughorn, former potions master of Hogwarts."

The fat form of Horace Slughorn came down the corridor. "What brings you here, Albus? I thought you agreed never to bother me again."

Dumbledore sighed. "Difficult circumstances require me to come here, with young Harry here." He gestured, and Slughorn's eyes lit up.

"Harry Potter! My, my, what an opportunity to meet you!" He reached out his hand, and Harry reluctantly shook it. The potions expert became suspicious again. "Bringing Lily's son here will not convince me to do it - we both know why you're truly here, Albus. Using the boy as blackmail will not work on me, no!"

"Mr. Slughorn," began Harry, "we simply wish to know - that is," he hastily corrected, "we seek your help to defeat Voldemort."

The man flinched. "And there is nothing to help you with, my boy!" he insisted. "Leave, and you too, Albus!"

"We know you told Voldemort about the Horcruxes," said Harry. Dumbledore winced.

"I didn't tell nobody anything about Horcruxes! Now get out! I was right in my original suspicions when _you_ showed up, Albus, pretending to be all nice and wise. I told you what I know, and that's it. No need to do anything big that reveals my position to every Death Eater in Magical Britain. Leave now, before I force you out."

"You and whose army?" asked Harry.

"I sent a letter to my good friend Lord Greengrass that you two had arrived - he's very discreet - and he's on his way now. If you don't leave now, he'll take you into custody. I tell you, begone! Do not drag me into your schemes, Albus!"

"You may as well have called the Aurors! Greengrass has probably sicced them on this place already, old friendship aside! You _know_ there's a reward for us - "

"He wouldn't compromise me for any amount of money - "

"And he hates me! That's enough reason for them to be here already, and your security has been compromised!"

"Indeed," added Dumbledore. "Come with us, Horace. We can protect you from Tom Riddle."

"No!" he cried. "I cannot - do not ask any more of me!"

"Then give us the memory, and let us go in peace!"

"There is no memory - why do you not believe me?"

Harry pulled out his wand and pushed it into the old potion professor's neck. "We know you're lying," he threatened, shooting an apologetic glance at Dumbledore.

The former Headmaster suddenly brought his wand out of his pocket, aiming it at the door. "We have company," he gravely stated. "Horace, what have you done?"

Horror dawned on the man as he realized the truth in Harry's words. "The Aurors - I never - he wouldn't - "

"He would, and did," firmly stated Harry. "If you have any humanity whatsoever, any sense of guilt for what you've allowed Voldemort to do, _give us the memory_. Now."

"Very well," he whispered. "Forgive me, I did not know what I had done. Then, and now. Let me get a vial."

He rushed off into the depths of the house, and came running back. "They request access - what can I do?"

"Let them in," replied Dumbledore. "I can only hope that they see the error in what their government forces them to do."

Slughorn drew a silvery thread of memory out from his head.

"Hurry up!" urged Harry. "They could be here any second."

He dropped the thread into the vial he had procured, and capped it. He extended it towards Harry, unsteady hands causing it to imperceptibly shake.

Harry began to walk towards the man, and then the door exploded inwards. Dumbledore, his wand twirling, redirected most of the debris, but a sharp chunk impaled Slughorn in the chest. The vial dropped towards the floor, and Harry dived after it, his seeker reflexes allowing him to catch its top. But the bottom impacted the floor and shattered into a million pieces, the memory leaking out onto the floor and disappearing.

"No!" He kneeled by Slughorn. "We need another memory, another copy - please!"

The dying man wheezed out a cough. "I'm sorry, Harry. Your mother was a favorite of mine, and I wish I had a chance to get to know you."

"I need the memory! Please - we need to be able to defeat Voldemort!"

"You only need the information," he rasped out. "Seven. Seven... Horcruxes." He shuddered.

"That is what you need to know. A man that evil... Tom Riddle must be stopped... I wish I had prevented him from his dark... path..."

His form grew still. Harry looked up, seeing Dumbledore fending off multiple bursts of light. He constantly transformed his surroundings into animals, sending them back towards the Aurors.

"Harry, we must go!"

"Yes," he agreed, unable to stem his tears. They came for no reason, yet he felt the need to lament this man's death.

"There's a back exit - run, and I will follow."

He ran, making sure none of the spells slipped by Dumbledore's defense and hit him. He rushed through the warren of passageways, finally arriving at the back door. Dumbledore was slowly retreating behind him.

He pushed out the door, and Dumbledore broke off the defense, running out as well. The tall fence enclosed them in from all sides, leaving one possible exit from the wards.

The former Headmaster grabbed Harry, pushing both of them off the edge as six Aurors burst out the door and through the wall behind them, running out towards them.

Air rushed by. The ground approached, yet they did not disapparate. He looked up, and Aurors had arrived at the cliff's edge. Dumbledore finally apparated them away as they passed the ward limit.

He could feel himself being squeezed tightly into a tube and stretched to the point of disintegration. It felt longer than usual, and then the torture ended and they roughly impacted the ground in a forest.

He collapsed to the floor. "Changing speed during Apparition is no easy task, Harry," chuckled Dumbledore.

He became grave again; the moment for humor had passed. "Horace, despite our differences, was a dear friend. I trust you have the memory?"

"No, Professor. It broke - but he told me, Voldemort made seven Horcruxes."

"Then it is as I feared. And it is likely six Horcruxes - to split his soul into seven equal parts."

"Great," groaned Harry. "I've destroyed one and we know about three - but nothing about where they might be. And then there're two more past that."

"I believe I may know where Tom hid one of his Horcruxes - more research will make it clear. And I think that perhaps Tom's snake is yet another Horcrux - he had possessed it to investigate the Department of Mysteries, as you told me, Harry. But that leaves one last possession - one of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's. The only such artifact my research has discovered is the Diadem of Ravenclaw - an artifact meant to bring wisdom, lost to the ages ever since Rowena Ravenclaw passed away."

"Let's go back to Grimmauld," decided Harry. "I need to rest after this disaster of a day. And it's only morning."

Birds chirped a mournful tune throughout the forest as wizard and wise man disappeared from sight.

* * *

By afternoon Harry was ready to work again. He and Sirius returned to the Forest of Dean and dug up the mirror to contact Lord Greengrass. They kept it out of the house, remembering what had happened when Voldemort got his hands on the other end of the mirror. They would not risk the Dark Lord finding other ways to exploit such a connection.

"Dammit, Greengrass!" he exclaimed the moment the man answered his call. "Why did you - "

"Damn _you_ , Potter, for messing with our lives! You could have just left us alone. We had a minor disagreement, nothing more, and it was resolved - but you just had to bind Daphne to you. Now is simply payback."

"Letting your friend of many years _die_ is not payback."

"What happened to Horace Slughorn is not my fault, Potter, and never will be. You are the one who dragged him into that mess. I regret that he died after I sent Aurors to his home, but leaving him alone with you and Dumbledore would have been worse. The moment I got the letter from his owl, I acted."

"You aren't supposed to do things contrary to what I need to do!"

"Then make more clear, great Lord, what you need done."

Harry took a deep breath, and could tell that Greengrass took delight in taunting him. "I don't like how you made that speech, either."

"What? Magic is might? You're a terrorist? Horace Slughorn died? As far as I'm concerned, all of these things are now true - I only regret having to associate with you, _Potter_. You were asking for that speech, quite literally. Now get out of my sight."

The mirror went blank as the wizarding Lord hung up.

* * *

HORACE SLUGHORN: IN MEMORIAM

 _Witches and wizards gathered today on the lawns of Hogwarts to celebrate the life of Hogwarts' previous potions master. Former students and even current Potions Master Severus Snape gave speeches remembering the great man's remarkable skill in both potions and teaching, and his positive impact on wizarding society as a whole._

 _"Horace Slughorn was a man who delighted in the achievements of his students," spoke Lucius Malfoy, "if only because he had great belief in Magical Britain and our society. Even though we mourn his death, we look forward to a future like one he had always wished for - one without struggle and one without fear. That's why he dove into potions-making and into teaching - he wanted to make this world a better one."_

 _When asked about Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, he replied, "Today is about the victim, not the killers. In the Wizengamot and the halls of the Ministry we can discuss these issues, but here it is disrespectful to the man to do so."_

 _The famed wizard had recently dropped out of public view and had retired to a place where none could find him. Lord Greengrass of the Wizengamot remarked, "Horace was my dearest friend, and having worked in the potions business I can tell you that he was truly one of the finest men the field has ever had the fortune to contain. One thing that we had always disagreed upon, though, was Dumbledore. He defended the man to me despite their mutual animosity - he still respected the man. I only hope that in the end he realized why Albus Dumbledore is not to be trusted."_

 _The potions master tragically died after Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore visited his secret residence. Aurors sent by Lord Greengrass were too late to save him. "I was the only one, aside from a select few, who knew where to find him," Lord Greengrass told the Daily Prophet. "Else we never may have found out about his unfortunate passing."_

 **A/N: A little late because I was writing other stuff. And because life, too. The next chapter of my reality travel fic Fractured Realities is up, and the first chapter of my new time-travel fic Mutable Reality is up as well. They're not bad, in my own biased opinion.**


	18. 18: Loyalty and Subversion

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, and any content recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.  
**

 **A/N: Make sure you read the previous chapter, since these two updates are in much quicker succession than usual.**

"Very well, then. It is settled. Bones, I want the three Divisions formed and ready within the week. We need to get working on the Dumbledore threat, fast."

Amelia Bones was having a bad day. A day mired in politics was already a day wasted in her eyes, but a day during which the entirety of her department was restructured for war was another level of problematic altogether. Nor did she have much, or even any, control over the situation. Malfoy and Lord Greengrass were to command - there really was no other term for it - most of the new British Magical Army and its three Divisions. It was quite a ridiculous state of affairs, really. But she would not risk, by questioning Fudge, Umbridge, or even Greengrass, the meager power she still retained. The last man was a newer major player within the Wizengamot, and she was still unsure of his exact motives, but they reeked of dishonesty. She wasn't sure she trusted either of Malfoy or Greengrass, her new fellow Overseers, with the future of the nation.

She briskly strolled out from Minister Fudge's office, headed straight for the DMLE offices to make the formal announcement. She was not looking forward to it.

The circumstances under which the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were to reform were equally questionable. Greengrass gave what amounted to a patriotic rant in front of the Wizengamot, causing them to force mobilization to strike down perceived but imaginary threats at home and even abroad. When she attempted to ask for its precise purpose, she was met with "to eradicate Dumbledore and Potter's merry gang of followers" and "to ensure the continued supremacy of Magical Britain throughout the world, including the inferior nations in South America." Inferior here, of course, meant more inclined towards equality and justice, especially for Muggleborns and even Muggles.

The ICW would do little to stop the whims of the British Ministry; Britain continued to have excellent relations with its colonies, which by now were nearly autonomous: Australia, South Africa, the West Indies, and even North America where pureblood aristocrats still enjoyed hunting Native wizards and shamans for sport and exploiting the Muggle underclasses. Europe was relatively peaceful and compliant - either that, or openly supportive of pureblood ideals. But if it came to war with South American or Asian countries, she would not be able to stop the gears of war, only rein back the reactions of the soldiers under her direct command.

This nationalistic and quite pureblood-oriented fervor was coming from somewhere, she knew, and Greengrass was the key to it all. Greengrass and Malfoy. Malfoy always had a history of being on the wrong side of the law, despite never being caught and despite being one of the richest in Magical Britain. He constantly supported anti-Muggle and pro-pureblood sentiments, and perhaps might attempt to use the army for his own purposes. Greengrass likely wanted the power of controlling the army. His business would also profit from the increased demand for medical potions.

Perhaps what Harry Potter had said about Lord Voldemort being back was true; initially, she had believed him and Dumbledore, but as time went on and no evidence or even story came forward to prove the tale, and as the _Daily Prophet_ presses rampantly printed anti-Potter propaganda, she began to doubt it. Something suspicious had happened in the Department of Mysteries, however, which culminated with the dismissal of Nymphadora Tonks. And again, before Harry Potter was arrested and then escaped, there was massive destruction at the Ministry - and again the DoM. Could a newly risen Dark Lord have been looking for some priceless weapon beneath the floors of the Ministry?

Whatever the truth, it was not that Harry Potter was a dangerous individual. Had he truly assaulted the Ministry with terroristic ambitions, he would have gone with Dumbledore and would not have been caught, tried, and sentenced. He would not have been sent to prison, only to be broken out by the recently-fired former Auror Tonks - the guard who had been replaced on that boat had recounted enough details to describe the talented woman. The betrayal had been covered up by Fudge himself from the public, the only people in-the-know the Aurors. Presumably, she would not show her face again, and the common wizard had no need to be aware of a shapeshifter in their midst, one they could not detect. No need to worry them more than already, no need to start a wake of witch hunts, so to speak. Or at least, that was the Minister's logic.

Her department had recently suffered major setbacks apart from Tonks' situation. Kingsley Shacklebolt, a dependable Auror and investigator, had been demoted on order of the Minister. After the Tonks scare, the Ministry launched investigations into every possible Dumbledore supporter, even scrutinizing the most obvious pureblood supporters. Shacklebolt had some discrepancies with his summer work hours as well as the time reportedly spent attempting to track down Sirius Black. Fudge didn't accuse the decorated Auror of treason, but he did, ironically, castigate the Auror for incompetence. The Auror was currently on unpaid leave and when he returned, he would be a rank-and-file member of the Army.

The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, now Overseer of the British Magical Army, stepped off the Ministry lift and into the DMLE offices. " _Sonorus!_ "

She cleared her throat, and everyone who was bustling around stopped to pay attention. Hopefully the rest on the floor could hear her as well.

"Fellow Aurors, enforcers, clerks, officials, Hit Wizards, please listen closely to this announcement. Misuse of Muggle Artifacts officials may continue work. As you may have heard, the Wizengamot recently passed the Remilitarization Act. As of today, we are no longer the Department of Magical Law Enforcement but rather the British Magical Army, with the exception of few key law enforcement officials. Our goal is simple: the eradication of all domestic terrorist threats, as well as the ensured perpetuation of the current international state of the Magical World. Your new duties, schedules, and training will come to you throughout the course of the next week; the Minister wants us ready by then to take on all threats to the established order. That is all.

"Proudfoot, Savage, my office. We need to talk about army administration."

She quickly made her way to her office, only to be intercepted by a familiar face. "Alastor!"

"Amelia." The former Auror shook her hand. "I need to discuss recent developments with you," said Moody.

"Come to my office."

Once Moody and the two trusted Aurors were inside her office, she locked the door and muttered some privacy charms under her breath. Then she turned to the three.

Moody's eye whizzed around, watching Proudfoot and Savage. "You sure you can trust those two? Most kids these days, not an inch of loyalty or bravery in them."

"I do," replied Amelia. "Before I tell you two anything, if you value your job only for your position then you can leave here now."

Neither Auror moved an inch. "Exactly my point. Now, as you know, many political forces are behind this shift. Fudge, Malfoy, Greengrass, and so on are just a couple - and I don't trust them with the future of our society."

"Of course you don't," said Moody. "And that's precisely why I'm here. Can't trust anyone, unlike the War, especially with Shacklebolt out."

Proudfoot shifted uncomfortably, clearly making the association. "Are you suggesting that, well, we should commit treason?"

"Of course not! But if I am removed - and even if not - be on the watch for suspicious happenings. Someone's using this army for their own benefit and I don't like it, especially with Greengrass and Malfoy commanding it."

"I can confirm that," said Moody. "Strange things happening around the darker areas of Europe. Werewolves, vampires, and the lot beginning to stir again. There've been reports of giants damaging small settlements far in the east of Europe. Everybody knows why, but they're too afraid to say it, confirm it, to even believe it."

"You-Know-Who's back," whispered Savage.

"Indeed. You two remember the waning days of the First War, the fire, chaos, desperation of it all. It's coming again, and worse than ever. And look how easily the Death Eaters can manipulate the army, through Malfoy and maybe Greengrass. Together, they could probably oust Amelia here, and wreak havoc against their enemies."

"You support Dumbledore. You work with Harry Potter," realized Savage.

"Yes, and I'm damn well proud of it. And at the rate things are going, I'm going to die proud as well. War never spares the weak. But I'm going to go out fighting, you can be sure of that."

"You? Weak?" asked Amelia. "You're the strongest man I know."

"You're a living legend, the best of the best," noted Proudfoot. "We can't continue if we lose important fighters like you."

"It's a testament to Voldemort's regained power." The other three flinched unconsciously. "But I'm a man from a dying generation. The real hero, the man you need to look out for, the man to rest your hopes on, is Harry Potter. He's dedicated, bold, courageous. He's faced Voldemort one-on-one more times than the rest of the world combined, and still lives. And he's the brightest student I've ever had the honor to teach."

"Yet it still might not be enough, against the full might of this Army," said Amelia. "Which is why we need your help, and the help of other people who we can trust. You two are my senior commanders, my most trusted officials. You-Know-Who is back, and we need to be ready for Malfoy, Greengrass, and the rest when the time comes."

* * *

In a newly allocated out-of-the-way office on the same floor, recently appointed Overseers Malfoy and Greengrass were having a similar conversation.

"We both know the real purpose of this army," said Lord Greengrass, "and you can thank me for its creation."

"Oration may be a legitimate talent of yours, Cyrus, but do not forget the Dark Lord's power. Had he chosen, he could have accomplished the same, and without your help, Greengrass. He has been most displeased with the rates of potions ingredients, but creating this army will not help you pander to him all while you fill your coffers with his gold." Malfoy stared directly into Lord Greengrass' eyes; Greengrass held his gaze.

"I am a simple man, Lucius, my friend. I care for comfort and the proper pureblood family, nothing more. If wealth and prestige help me attain this, who is to judge? You of all people are not worthy to judge the hedonistic lifestyle, Lucius."

Malfoy's lip curled every time Greengrass used his name. "Your daughters, yes. Such dainty flowers of girls."

Cyrus Greengrass' eyes narrowed. "And what do you mean by that, Malfoy? The Greengrasses do not capitulate to threats, and it would do you well to remember that in the future."

"It would do _you_ well to remember that the Dark Lord does not tolerate insubordination at any time."

"As should _you_ recall that you are not him, Lucius, no matter how much you wish to be so."

Malfoy's lips tightened. "Perhaps so. But when the time comes, will you be loyal to him, or to Dumbledore?"

"I am loyal to the Ministry, of course, Lucius. I am offended that you even suggest anything else."

"And should the Dark Lord control the Ministry?"

"Does he not already? I think the answer is clear."

"Not quite yet, Cyrus. Not quite yet." He glanced at the Lord, then looked away. "But of course, should the time prove right, you will support a new order. You will throw in your lot with the absolute superiors, the rightful rulers of this country and, indeed, the world."

Lord Greengrass paused, remembering his daughter's precarious situation with Potter. Malfoy raised a single brow, waiting for a response.

"Of course."

"Then you will not object to a more permanent alliance, one dictated by the Dark Lord himself?"

"A marriage of convenience. How quaint."

"It would do well to honor the timeless rituals of our ancestors, would it not, Cyrus? To prove your loyalty in a most permanent binding of our two great familial legacies?"

"Let your son marry my youngest, then."

"And why not your oldest daughter, the heir to your legacy?"

Greengrass hesitated. There was no way to talk himself out of this without serious misdirection. "She is bound to another, though he does not know of it. Come twenty-nine, should she not be claimed, the contract will be broken and she shall be free to marry once more. We need only make sure that the man does not know." It was a delicate lie, for he would have to balance his secrecy oath with Harry Potter as well as being proven a liar to Lucius Malfoy.

Malfoy leaned closer. "And who is that person?"

"I'd rather not say."

Malfoy simply stared, waiting for his inevitable acquiescence.

"Very well. It is Harry Potter." Any other name and Malfoy could easily find out through contacts that he was lying. But with Harry Potter, only Dumbledore and perhaps the escaped convict Black still could access the records. He had deduced a bit ago that Black was not a follower of the Dark Lord as claimed by Fudge's Ministry, due to too many discrepancies with the man's behavior and since the man quite evidently had not rejoined Voldemort. Potter had said that Black was innocent at some point, he knew, and Fudge discredited it. Fudge was wrong then, as now. With all three of them on the run, and that too together, as Greengrass knew, and as undoubtedly did Malfoy, the records were effectively sealed.

Malfoy sat up, startled at the revelation. "Why not reveal the contract, then, and bind the boy? Why not deliver him to the Dark Lord, and receive your reward?"

Greengrass grimaced. He had to give no sign that negotiations had already taken place, for that was the subject that his oath of silence to Potter covered. Yet he had to make sure Malfoy and Voldemort would not pressure him into "activating" the contract. "The damned thing gives all the power to Potter. And if I do that, I'll be up against Dumbledore with the negotiations. Besides, the only useful information it could provide you is where he is at the current moment, by tracking the owl. But I think you already know where the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is. There was a recent explosion, ignored by the Muggle Artifacts department, in London."

Lucius Malfoy smiled. "The Dark Lord is more ingenious than either you or I."

Cyrus Greengrass rose. "So we have a deal? An alliance as far as the army goes - I will not lower my prices."

"And a contract between Draco and Astoria - but we do." Lucius Malfoy offered his hand and shook Lord Greengrass', signaling the beginning of a new relationship.

"But of course." Lord Greengrass canceled his privacy charms and exited the office, leaving Overseer Malfoy to ponder the recent developments. _The Dark Lord will be pleased,_ he thought. _And Greengrass' loyalty shall be permanently ours._

 **A/N: A gift chapter since I had time to write. Again, if you like this I highly suggest you read my two other stories, which I've taken to calling the Reality Duet.**


	19. 19: Goblin Neutrality

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, and any content recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

Minister Fudge sat in contemplation at his desk, watching Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge leave the office. She had delivered the report that the army was fully functional and ready to go. Lucius Malfoy and Cyrus Greengrass he could trust and rely on, but he never was too sure about Amelia - mainly due to her scrupulous nature and distaste for any sort of underhanded tactics.

This was politics, though. Such things were the bread and butter of any person as successful as the Minister for Magic. Greengrass and Malfoy would support him, definitely, and thus Bones would likely not disobey the order of the Ministry. What came from his office _was_ the highest law of the land, after all, right after the Wizengamot. But that wizarding body was in his favor regarding Albus Dumbledore and regarding the insubordinate magical states across the world. Bagnold before him had let Britain's grip slip too much since the Great War with Grindelwald, and he had to admit that he himself had been a little complacent in enforcing his rule. But that would change.

His thoughts turned to the problem of Potter and Dumbledore. They were like snakes: slippery, manipulative, nipping at his heels whenever he tried to do something. But how to defang them?

They needed potions - that was why they had approached Slughorn, after all. Dear Horace had refused, naturally. Dumbledore and his Order needed resources, and for resources they needed money. But they had money, for Potter and Dumbledore together owned a decent amount, or so the rumors went.

If only he could seize their vaults...

But Gringotts would not allow it, as per the laws set down after the most recent Goblin Rebellion. All wizards who used the bank were guaranteed access to their money, regardless of a criminal record - due to some kerfuffle or the other involving some purebloods and suspicious murders. He had always suspected that Sirius Black used that rule to his own benefit, but Kingsley had always insisted the opposite, which was one of the reasons why the man was demoted, beyond his suspected ties to Dumbledore. Minister Cornelius Fudge was on the path to becoming one of the most revered Ministers for Magic of all British history. He could just see the title: Fudge the Great, leader of the British Revival. And he would not allow Dumbledore's lackeys to infiltrate his grand army.

He had an army, he had the entire society of Magical Britain on his side. He could easily force the goblins to comply, to remove their secret passages which allow even criminals to access their vaults and to hand over the contents of the Dumbledore and Potter vaults, and for good measure the Black vault if he could get his hands on it. Lucius would back him on the last one - a generous sum from what the Malfoys viewed as rightly theirs would definitely bolster the man's support for the current administration.

He made up his mind, reviewing the ingenious plan, and then got up to get people to write down the quick mandate for the Goblin Clans.

* * *

It was a much more tired Cornelius Fudge that walked into the reception area of Gringotts bank, clutching the official order to release the two vaults to Ministry possession. The novelty of the idea had worn off long ago as he watched Percy Weasley and others carefully construct the notice. Weasley had done an excellent job installing Dolores Umbridge as High Inquisitor and now Headmistress of Hogwarts, while letting her retain the position of Undersecretary. It was much work, but the old man Dumbledore had done more, and he was practically senile but definitely hostile to the establishment.

"I need to speak with the leader of the bank," he announced to a teller. The goblin raised an eyebrow.

"And you ask me?" he asked. "Nevertheless - what is your purpose here, wizard?"

"I need to speak -"

"I _understand_ , wizard. But for what purpose do you wish to speak with our august leader?" Guards hefted their axes behind the teller.

Fudge gulped. The goblins were always intimidating, but he needed to show no fear in order to gain their respect, yet simultaneously not alienate them. "It is regarding the Potter and Dumbledore vaults."

"Ah." The goblin paused. "Then you may see Bashskull and Griphook now. Follow me."

Fudge, trying not to react at the names, tightly controlled his face as he walked behind the teller.

"I, for your reference, am Gutpierce, the goblin over there -" he gestured to one of the guards lumbering behind the two "- is Riplung, and the guard to your left is Genitalsquash."

"You're joking!" exclaimed Fudge after letting out an embarrassing squeak.

"Of course I am, wizard. Now hurry up."

Fudge soon found himself sitting and facing two more goblins, Griphook and Bashskull, though he now doubted the veracity of both of the names.

"So, Mr. Griphook - you are Griphook, correct? - we at the Ministry have a proposition for you." Better to err on the side of caution and address the goblins respectfully.

Griphook smiled, unnoticed by Fudge, then adopted an offended expression. "I am not Griphook, I am Riplung, Master of the Second Clan! You wizard come in here and disrespect our honored customs and traditions since time immemorial, and ask us for favors? You wizard come in here to break your very own laws, and do not respect a Clan Leader by his appropriate title? Let it be known that the Second Clan of the goblins will not consider any more requests from you or your human puppets. Let it be known that you will from now on treat me with proper respect, that is, if you had any time left on the face of this earth with which to pay me honor. KILL HIM!" He lifted up a sharp dagger and guards burst into the room.

Fudge cowered in terror.

"Just kidding. So, you wish to take possession of the Potter and Dumbledore vaults?" The guards exited, grinning nastily.

"Yes - how did you know?"

"Gringotts has its ways, Mr. Fudge. And we will have to deny your request," responded Bashskull.

"What - but you certainly cannot - it is here, see?" He lifted up the written order of the Ministry. "According to the previous Goblin Accords, we can -"

"I care not for your pathetic loopholes, Fudge, for we goblins have probably already found a hundred more for the one you bring up now, and definitely can refute it," cut off Griphook.

"The Ministry has the authority here, not a bank!"

"Tell that to the _wizard_ who agreed that Gringotts would receive sovereignty. No, Mr. Fudge, there is only one thing we respect enough to give you the vaults."

"Yes?"

"Earn it through your own virtues," said Bashskull, "and then the negotiations will begin."

"Just negotiations! Not even a guarantee that you will do as the Ministry asks?" asked Fudge.

"Of course not, wizard, but it'll be the best you can do," replied the goblin.

Fudge hardened his expression. "Very well," he said. "If it has to be this way."

Griphook watched, amused. "You wouldn't be referring to that army you have, would you? Honor is not determined in a - what do you humans call it? - pissing match. And besides, I assure you that we goblins are more... proficient with regards to our bodily anatomy than wizards are."

Fudge stiffly rose from the chair and walked out of the office.

"Are you sure this is wise?" asked Bashskull.

"These are orders from higher up," replied Griphook. "And we both know that there are three sides to this war. But of the three, Fudge's ministry is possibly worse to the Clans than what Lord Voldemort could provide, and definitely worse than what Potter would reward us with should we help him out. Thus, helping him is tantamount to suicide."

"But this decision of Fudge would help Lord Voldemort as well. Why not acquiesce, but extract concessions from his ministry?"

"It is Fudge's ministry that we get the favors from, then, not whoever will end up running Magical Britain by the time the curtain falls. Should Lord Voldemort or his representatives come calling and ask for the favor, we will consider it - especially since he has already won our grudging respect."

"Play both sides of the war, and try to keep it balanced while acting like a concerned neutral party. I like it," said Bashskull.

"It is not a matter of like or dislike," said Griphook. "It is the very survival of the Goblin Clans that is at stake. We, especially, as Potter and Dumbledore's account managers, cannot afford to mess up this delicate balance. And nobody quite knows what Lord Greengrass' true motivations are, despite our knowledge of the contract between the Potters and the Greengrasses - precisely because of the new contract between the Malfoys and the Greengrasses. He plays as much of, if not more, a dangerous game than we do, and for that reason he is much more of a threat, a wild card, especially if his plans go awry."

"And what of Harry Potter?" asked Bashskull.

"I respect the cunning and adaptability he displayed in both negotiations, and his resolve as he fights, outnumbered, his nemesis. But despite bravery and intelligence, he has yet to produce a real victory, a real breakthrough on his side. At no point can he ever have been said to truly win against Lord Voldemort, and one cannot delay a wizard like that forever. He needs Dumbledore right now, but I foresee him becoming a powerful influence in the events yet to come."

"You are right, I think. It goes to show that we live in an even more delicate situation than the goblins of the previous rebellions, and I say this without jest. But I have faith in the Clans, faith in ourselves, that we shall weather this storm."

"Don't be too optimistic," warned Griphook. "For good spirits are simply the heralds of suffering."

* * *

It was with a heavy heart that Cornelius Fudge gave the order for the army to march on Gringotts. Not because of any potential goblin loss of life, but because perhaps the tiny bastards might be able to take out a couple honest members of the Ministry before they were crushed. But hopefully it would not even come to that, and the goblins would realize that he was quite serious and ready to start the next rebellion over Potter and Dumbledore's funding. Merlin knew how much money they had floating around in there, as well as priceless artifacts too valuable to move. And the prospect of getting his hands on the Black fortune was too delectable to pass up.

He should have done this long before. Perhaps Dumbledore and Potter had already withdrawn most of their money, but he knew that Gringotts required them to retain a sizeable fraction, at least half, of their current amount of gold in their unless they were closing the entire vault. And close their vaults the fools did not. Nevertheless, he would not pass up the opportunity to halve the fortunes of the Order of the Phoenix and earn some money on the side for himself, Lucius, and even Cyrus, who had grown more warm to him with recent events. If the goblins did not stand down when confronted with the new army, they would be crushed. Wizards had grown in power since the last rebellion, and the greedy fools would realize just how much the dynamic of power had shifted in the past centuries. But it was not like he was looking for war, no. They simply got in the way. That was what he kept telling himself.

* * *

Had the Muggles hurriedly walking down Charing Cross Road paid attention, they would have noticed a crowd of strange, slightly blurred people walking quickly towards an abandoned shop. But Muggles rarely looked closely for magical things these days, especially with misdirection charms and wizarding disguises.

The crowd rushed through the Leaky Cauldron, startling Tom the bartender as they came in one door and out the other. Green flames periodically rose from the fireplace of the pub, ejecting more witches and wizards who joined the procession.

The line became an orderly crowd which marched through Diagon Alley, continually being joined by wizards ejected by the Floo systems of different shops along the main alley. The rhythmic movement of the crowd directly contrasted the slapdash and disorderly nature of the alley, and witches and wizards doing their daily schedule soon stopped to watch the spectacle, even following the crowd of BMA members towards their final destination.

The army formed into three sections in front of Gringotts bank, with the three Overseers commanding each section. Despite Amelia Bones' protests at the first use of the army, she was there, because she would rather supervise what might turn into genocide rather than let her wizards run amok and cause needless destruction.

Crowds of witches and wizards rushed out of the grand doors of the bank, evidently pushed out by the goblins. At last, the flow slowed to a trickle and everyone was still, unconsciously holding their breaths.

The battle line was drawn; all that was needed now was the goblins' response.

 **A/N: The final chapter of Fractured Realities is out! And as you read about all the crap Harry goes through in this fanfiction and the next, as you contemplate all the suffering in the world, I hope you'll just take a moment (it doesn't have to be any longer than the amount of time you took to read this page) to reflect on all those things which you are grateful for, even the simple things like earth, air, water, and fire, no matter your beliefs, ethnicity, magical ability, etc. There are a lot of hateful Death Eaters in our own Muggle world, many passive Ministries of Magic, many greedy goblins, and not enough heroic members of the Order of the Phoenix who dare to act on their hopes. And for us (and I often include myself among this group) who sometimes are afraid to stand up, let us dream on for not one Person- but many People-Who-Live to make this world a better place.  
**


	20. 20: Trouble and Dissension

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, and any content recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

It was an extremely tense and worried Kingsley Shacklebolt who entered Twelve Grimmauld Place in a rush and informed the members of the Order of the Phoenix who were there of the news.

"Gringotts and the Ministry are at odds over your and Dumbledore's accounts, Harry," he said. "I think this might be the start of the next Goblin Rebellion, as well as a shift in Ministry policy to active hostility."

"What can we do?" asked Sirius. "Stand by and let it happen?"

"Most of us are known fugitives," spoke Tonks. "If we go there we run a huge risk."

"And everyone who supports the goblins the Ministry'll assume are on our side," said Moody. "But I don't think any of you know too much about goblin warfare, nor does most of the Ministry for that matter. I do, because back in the day we never knew if they would attack...

"They have powerful defenses," continued the retired Auror. "They need to be able to protect their vaults and by extension the bank itself. They'll close down all exits and then form their army on the inside, waiting for the protections to fall."

"They play defensive and close to the chest," noted Lupin. "Which makes sense, given the relative stigma of their existence within the magical community." The werewolf had much experience with this very same prejudice.

"Yes. The goblins will try to hold out long enough to collapse the wizarding economy, which could take up to months since there is probably enough money in circulation to keep us going for some time without them. But sooner or later goes the logic, the ordinary wizard becomes discontent because most of his savings and money are in Gringotts. He has no guarantee he or his family will ever get it back."

"Internal conflict can bring down the most organized of armies," realized Harry. "Especially if they don't have something to fight for."

"Exactly. We do, that's why the Order and even the Death Eaters are so successful and cohesive. But the goblins are tricky creatures we need to watch out for, even more so than Fudge and his Ministry. They'll collapse, sooner or later. The Goblin Clans will not."

"Then Fudge wins, in a sense," noted Tonks. "We can't access our money, which is a setback for the Order."

"But neither can Voldemort," pointed out Lupin.

"Voldemort doesn't need money. He only needs one thing, he told me. He said, 'There is no good and evil, only power and those too weak to seek it.' He can continue his plans without as much money, Fudge is only buying him more time!"

"That's the general plan," said Moody, grim. "One of the three divisions is overseen by Malfoy, and another by Greengrass, of whom we know little about. Only one division we can trust, which is Bones'; I met with her and her two senior officials, Proudfoot and Savage about a week ago. They're loyal, and they understand. Sooner or later they might even join the Order."

"Can't we break the stalemate?" asked Harry. "Do something?" He glanced meaningfully at Sirius. They would be having another conversation with Greengrass about the situation.

"We can die, and charge blindly in. That's just plain stupid, kid, and I thought you'd learned better than that," said Moody.

"No, I mean - that is to say, we could do something politically."

"Politics." Moody snorted disdainfully. "I've already pulled all the strings that are possible for our side, unless we can get a majority on the Wizengamot against this whole army arrangement. But they've already voted, invested time and money into this thing. They're not going to back down, especially not with Greengrass and Malfoy leading one division each and Bones leading the third as a concession to those who were reluctant to vote for the army."

"I suppose," said Harry. He and Sirius needed to go back to the Forest of Dean, where their mirror with Greengrass was stored.

"Greengrass," said Harry coolly.

"Potter. I already know why you are calling me. I will not remove this army from Gringotts."

"That is not why I contacted you at all. No, we need to talk about _your daughter_."

"My daughter? Astoria is fine, thank you very much. Now good day to you."

"Don't you hang up on me, Greengrass! If you continue to try to destabilize the world as you are doing, I will regretfully have to punish your family for your indiscretions."

"You see, Potter, you are not the only one I am beholden to anymore."

"What?! I told you specifically not to go allying yourself with Death Eaters and the like -"

"My youngest daughter, Astoria, is in a marriage contract with another family. I cannot continue to serve just your whim any longer - I have her safety to worry about, as well. I need to protect her, especially, from those who seek to politically coerce me."

"Which family is it? Let me guess - the Crabbes? Or was it the Goyles? Some other inbred, deformed line of dishonorable fools? I bet you failed to scam them, like you did me. Imagine that, Lord Greengrass, master strategist of the British Magical Army, losing in a battle of wits to some troglodyte -"

"Enough! I am no fool, Potter, and have not lost to any of these fools! I would keep my family autonomous if I could."

"So you don't have your way in the world. How sad. I guess it's obvious then, who outwitted you - Malfoy."

Cyrus Greengrass' face tightened. "Yes. And thus your hold over me is over."

"But he doesn't know that your eldest is actually married to me - I'm sure he's _wondering_ just why his precious Draco couldn't get the Heiress."

"You cannot tell this to him because of the oath, Potter, just as I cannot tell him," said Lord Greengrass. "We are on equal ground, now, because I must now do what he expects of me else my younger daughter will suffer the consequences. I have no excuse _not_ to do what he says."

"But your older daughter will suffer should you follow his instructions. Which will it be? Who do you love more?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "You would not actually go this far. I doubt the torture that _Harry Potter_ of all people can inflict is worse than what Voldemort's Death Eaters can do."

"I can take her away from you," warned Harry. "You may never see her again."

"But at least she shall be in relatively good hands, Harry Potter, for despite your uncaring exterior there is someone who loves and feels inside."

Harry closed his eyes. "This is true. It is only people like you for whom I have disrespect."

"Instruct her," continued Harry, "to on the next Hogsmeade weekend gather all her essential items, to walk up the path, past the Shrieking Shack until she finds the caves that are up there. And have nobody accompany her."

"Husband and wife will be reunited at last, though not at the end of a star-crossed disunion." Greengrass chuckled. "Instead, it is the reunion that is the problem. Irony at its finest." He paused. "I am still not sure what having her in your custody will do. Will you attempt to use her as a hostage against me? She already is, albeit a little farther out of your reach than usual. Who is the true monster, he who acquiesces to the pressures of war, or he who tears apart families in its name?"

"You are the one who is causing this all, Greengrass, as well as Voldemort. I'm simply consolidating and providing for Daphne's security, considering that you support a tyranny under Voldemort and since Hogwarts is Ministry-run and wholly unsafe."

"You do so by depriving her of an education and of a social life? It is not as if I will feel more pressure from your side of the war with every day she remains under your control. I have already accepted the truth as it is."

"We have experts here who are far better than the rest, who can teach her and keep her from your destructive influence."

"I am still unsure as to why you are doing this, Harry Potter."

"Because I said I would and because I said I could. We are both stubborn men, insisting that the other cannot influence each of us. But who is more stubborn remains to be seen: I who have matched wills with Voldemort himself," - Greengrass flinched - "or you, Greengrass, a pampered pureblood general who knows nothing of loss?"

Greengrass' eyes flashed. "You did not see the houses burn in the First War, Potter. Do not presume to lecture me on its realities."

"I saw the last house burn, saw the last three major players in that conflict die. One of those three is back, and I intend to put him in his place."

"If you say so, Harry Potter. If you say so, then by all means, go ahead."

The mirror went blank once more. Harry looked up at Sirius and sighed. "Everything's going to hell," he said. "Why can't the world be simpler, be a better place to live in?"

"It's people like Voldemort, Harry, who bring out the worst in even the best. That's why we continue to fight."

"I _know_ that, it's just - never mind. Let's go back to Grimmauld."

Minister Fudge sat in his office, thinking. He had the cursebreakers work on Gringotts' defences, but they said it could take up to months to get around them. Needless to say, he wasn't pleased. In a couple of months much could happen, and the Goblin Clans were not the Ministry's true enemy. Dumbledore and Potter could run around and do Merlin knows what even without too much money in their pockets. The army couldn't just afford to lamely sit in Diagon all day and night, waiting for the shields around the goblins' bank to collapse.

A brilliant thought struck the man. He could leave Bones' division to watch over Gringotts, with a few men from Greengrass and Malfoy's divisions to make sure she did her job and quarantined the bank. Then Greengrass and Malfoy could focus on the threats at hand - without the potentially restrictive influence of the former Director of Magical Law Enforcement. It was a genius move, one unparalleled except by the one in which he installed Dolores Umbridge as a teacher and later the High Inquisitor and Headmistress at Hogwarts. (In actuality, it had been Percy Weasley's idea, but Fudge generally liked to attribute all of the success and none of the blame for any idea of the Ministry. So it was Percy's fault that his family was so fractious and that certain children at Hogwarts continued to act out against the new, corrected system of education.)

He rose to give the orders. Maybe finally the Ministry could get something accomplished on the Dumbledore-Potter front.

* * *

No sooner had Harry and Sirius returned to Twelve Grimmauld Place than Dumbledore himself came rushing in.

"Harry, I believe I have ascertained the location of one of the artifacts. I suggest we go now, while the entire Ministry army remains occupied with the Gringotts threat."

"They couldn't find us anyway, though, Professor, because you nullified the Trace."

"But it is in near an out-of-the-way Muggle village where a former wizarding family lived, and too much magic in such a place might draw the suspicion of the Ministry, especially due to the family's long history of Mugglebaiting."

"Where?" asked Harry.

"Little Hangleton, where Tom Riddle's mother and father grew up. Where a bright young man took one of his initial steps to becoming Lord Voldemort."

"It's hidden in Riddle Manor? That doesn't make sense."

"Tom would not want to praise his Muggle family, Harry, but rather recognize his wizarding lineage, the Gaunts who descend directly, patrilineally, from Salazar Slytherin. I suspect it is in the Gaunt Shack, and for that reason I believe that it is the Gaunt ring which he stored there, to amplify the importance of his Slytherin heritage in his own mind as well as symbolically."

"That makes sense."

"Sirius, you shall have to stay here," said Dumbledore. "Shall we go, Harry?"

"Yes." Harry followed Dumbledore to the top step outside of Twelve Grimmauld Place and took his hand. They apparated away.

 **A/N: The last chapter of Mutable Reality has been uploaded. Fractured Realities is also complete. Maybe I'll try writing another, longer story (alongside this one, of course).**


	21. 21: Horcrux the Second

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, and any content recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

Harry and Dumbledore appeared on a worn street, and he could see the Gaunt house, more of a shack than a proper living space, in the distance.

"We shall approach carefully; Tom has no doubt put enchantments in place to bar those who wish his soul harm. Follow my lead, and touch nothing, especially if you feel oddly compelled to. You have experience fighting the Imperius and the mental control of Voldemort, and I am sure we shall be fine."

Harry fidgeted nervously. "Are you sure I'll be able to handle this?"

"Tom's greatest weakness is in his arrogance. He likely expects none to find out his secret, and even then, will likely have brute force style enchantments surrounding it, as he values power above all else. There may be some cunning to it, some dangerous traps we must be aware of, but he prefers not to utilize fully the intricacies of magic, which I know much of.

"I confess, I considered bringing Alastor along - he knows that of the Horcruxes - or even going alone, but decided that you should have a pivotal role in this coming fight, and what better way to prepare than to face a creation of Lord Voldemort himself, albeit watered down?"

"How will we destroy it?"

"Basilisk venom or cursed fire should suffice. The Sword of Godric Gryffindor is thus the safest option, except that it is much too heavy. Thus, I have brought along a protected vial of potent venom that I harvested when you killed it, as you may remember."

Harry did remember letting Dumbledore into the Chamber of Secrets to survey the damage. After finding nothing useful beyond the basilisk's meals, the man had decided to leave the Chamber closed. Venom was definitely better than the cursed Fiendfyre, which Moody had told horror stories about.

One concern remained. "But what if the vial breaks, like Slughorn's memories?"

"I believe Horace was using a defective vial to house his most precious memory, which was most unfortunate. I have taken the liberty to apply many of my own charms to this to make sure the poison does not leak, and I assure you that no harm will befall me because of it."

By then they had reached the shack. The wise old wizard raised his hand.

"Wait. I sense nothing, but it may be a trap." Muttering long incantations under his breath and waving his wand about, Dumbledore slowly stepped forward, pausing here and there and leaning his head as if searching for delicate heartbeats of magic in the ground and air.

He made his way slowly towards the shack, beckoning at Harry to carefully follow his footsteps, and then, suddenly, he blew the door down with a powerful curse. The precarious house creaked and groaned, its walls visibly leaning, but did nothing.

"There are no protections here," said Dumbledore, "but I sense no dark taint either. The Horcrux must be more carefully hidden, or I was mistaken about Tom's choice of hiding place."

He walked back and forth along the length of the dilapidated house with boarded up windows, tapping his wand on the walls, ceiling, and floor. Finally, he paused. "Aha! I have found an entrance of some sort - it is likely where the artifact is hidden."

He muttered a few more words, then frowned. Turning his wand upon his hand, he muttered, " _Diffindo_ " and a single drop of blood fell to the floor on the spot he indicated. A groaning sound erupted from the ground, and Harry and Dumbledore jumped back as the ground within the shack opened up to reveal a large and deep pit with stairs around the edge.

"Underneath the floorboards, then. Follow me, and be careful where you place your feet."

After lighting their wand tips they together descended into the bowels of the earth, closer to whatever fiendish trap Voldemort had devised. The cold packed earth wall gave way to rough stone which jutted out from the side at times, forcing Harry and Dumbledore to duck or stretch their legs over the obstacle. The stairs themselves, made of wood, creaked at odd intervals and threatened to give way at times. They seemed ominously alive. At more than one point, Harry broke through the wood and nearly fell to a premature death. Their progress was hindered by Dumbledore's scrupulous checks for traps and triggers, including those which might collapse the structure further down or other such nefarious but less detectable possibilities.

But as Dumbledore had shared with him, it was likely that if Voldemort trapped someone, he'd want to be able to interrogate what was left of them to see how they learned of this place. One thing was sure, they would definitely find the Horcrux down here.

Finally, they reached the bottom of the seemingly endless staircase. The entrance was barely a distant ray of light. Dumbledore walked up to the wall.

"Another entryway," he remarked, "which exacts the same price. Tom never understood that there are far greater and far worse things than mortality and mere physical harm."

The man pressed his cut to the wall, and it registered the addition of blood. The door in front opened, but they could simultaneously hear an echo of the one up top grinding shut.

"How are we going to get out, Professor?" asked Harry.

"I do not know, Harry. I will admit that Voldemort managed to sneak that trap by in my complacency; I will do better to anticipate his moves in the future. Currently, though, we can do nothing but move on. I doubt the stairs will still hold. We shall find another way out of this cave."

With that, they continued deeper into the abyss, wands aglow.

After following a passageway for some time, they entered a large and wide cavern with smooth walls and seemingly no exit.

"The walls are too smooth to be natural," noted Harry. "Voldemort created this."

The sinister name echoed throughout the cavern. _Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort,_ it whispered back.

"But where is the artifact, the Horcrux?" he continued. _Horcrux, Horcrux, Horcrux._

A heavy stone dropped into the passageway behind, closing their only path of retreat, and a large door opened in the far wall.

"I have failed again, it seems, to detect Tom's traps. We cannot apparate away."

Out from the door lumbered a large, reptilian creature. It was much larger than the Hungarian Horntail he had faced during the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament, and looked much fiercer. The heads. Instead of having feet, each of its four legs split into around fifteen large snakes around half the size of the basilisk he faced in the Chamber of Secrets. The beast blinked, briefly obscuring its brilliant yellow eyes.

Harry became distinctly aware of Dumbledore shouting. "Look away, Harry! Its very gaze will slay you!"

"I'm not dead," he said, confused. "What is it?"

"It is one of the vilest creatures ever to exist in concept or in reality. The product of Herpo the Foul's terrible imagination, it trumps even the basilisk and cockatrice in terms of danger. I have only heard of them, for the magic required to actually create one is so dark that none, even Grindelwald and Emeric the Evil, were even tempted to try, for it requires the creator to make a Horcrux and partially integrate it into the creature's thought processes, allowing it sentience and magic...

"Herpo the Foul called it the Magnificent Beast. It will be the most intelligent hostile beast you or I have ever encountered or ever will. But I am puzzled as to why you have not died due to its sight."

"Maybe because I'm a Parselmouth? Or share a connection with Voldemort?"

"Perhaps..."

The beast finally fully entered the cavern, and the door behind it closed. It began to speak to Harry.

 _Who disturbs my slumber?_

" _I do,_ " said Harry, nervous but trying not to show it.

 _Why are you here?_

"Tell it that we seek a dark artifact. I doubt there is a way to avoid confrontation, so it is best to be to the point."

"You understand Parseltongue?"

Dumbledore merely smiled, a conjured blindfold covering his eyes as he held his wand aloft.

" _I seek an object of the dark,_ " responded Harry to the creature.

 _For what purpose do you seek it?_

" _I wish to destroy it._ "

 _You cannot do this, Speaker._

"Harry, now!" shouted Dumbledore, and they both fired blasting curses at the creature.

The snake feet rose up to protect the front legs, and opened their mouths. Two of the heads swallowed the curse, before emitting it back at them from different snake mouths as they hissed and squirmed.

"Look out!" yelled Harry, jumping to the side. Dumbledore, evidently having felt the shift in magic, jumped the other way.

"I think it can redirect our spells," shouted Harry.

"Perhaps an internal lining, charged with magic?" mused Dumbledore. "And I doubt it can be felled by a Killing Curse either, considering that it is not truly alive, but rather is a form of being that is supplemented by the existence of Voldemort's Horcrux. No, we must destroy it the conventional way, and seize the Horcrux."

 _Kill, tear, rip..._

The beasts lunged forward, and the multiple heads on its feet reared back to strike. Harry shielded himself from the impact, and Dumbledore waved his wand, tying up some of the heads in a knot. Yet more shot forward, and he darted nimbly away from the monster, separated by the creature from Harry.

The beast turned but the onslaught of snake heads against Harry did not cease even though the beast focused its attention on Dumbledore in front of it; its back legs continued to tie Harry down underneath his shield.

Suddenly, the heads drew back. Harry scrambled to the side, dropping his shield, just as a rush of roaring flame consumed the spot he had been moments ago. Despite not being directly hit, he could feel a heat as scorching as dragon fire, and suddenly realized that he and Dumbledore were outmatched against this monstrosity.

If there was anything positive about this, it was that this required a Horcrux to operate and that Voldemort probably only created one. Probably.

The heads swiveled, and the roiling flames moved towards him. Dumbledore, on the other side and facing the biggest head of the creature, was probably having a harder time, if any. " _Aguamenti!_ "

The pitiful gout of water quickly turned to steam when the scorching hot fire impacted it, evaporating Harry's defense. He needed better cover, like he had during the Triwizard Tournament, but there was no debris lying around...

" _Bombarda!_ " The explosion fractured the rock on the wall to his side as he desperately ran from the hissing and jeering snake-feet abominations and their flames of death, but none of the pieces were large enough to hide behind.

" _Bombarda!_ " More dust and fragments of rocks littered the cavern floor. He and Dumbledore were now nearly at antipodal points of the circular room, and the beast could only reach far enough to attack one of them at a time, thankfully. It chose Dumbledore. The old wizard in flourishes and waves summoned and transfigured many of the fragments Harry had made on the ground into sharp pieces of metal, and they flew towards the back of the creature, which continued to spew bursts of fire. Many of the pieces rebounded off of the thick skin of the creature, but some found their way into the opened maws of the snakes. Without even being able to see the metal shards he transfigured, the former Headmaster of Hogwarts and master of Transfiguration increased their sizes and all of the snake heads on Harry's side of the creature exploded in bursts of blood.

Harry, meanwhile, began to transfigure the larger pieces of rock he had blasted off of the cavern wall into durable cover, stretching and elongating the stones and molding them into a single piece between Harry and the Magnificent Beast.

He finished just as the decapitated heads grew back and began to spew flame in larger quantity. Dumbledore continued to frantically transfigure stone into weapons and stave off the blows and strikes of all the different heads.

"Harry, we need to destroy the beast from the inside!"

"I don't think anything could stand the heat at the very center of that thing!"

 _Hopeless, foolish, impossible..._

"We must fight fire with fire, Harry! Cover yourself!"

Harry's eyes widened. Surely he couldn't mean...

He watched in awe as multifarious heads of flame blossomed out of the old wizard's wand. The animalistic Fiendfyre danced around the cavern, quickly spreading and consuming everything it touched with the exception of the Magnificent Beast, which continued to attack the former Headmaster despite the intense fury of the flames. But though the skin of the creature could keep the flames out, the raging spirits of fire sought out other entrances, forcing its way inside the mouths of the snakes and slowly but surely working its way up the monster.

Deprived of its favorite tools, the beast attempted to lunge forward, baring its teeth at Dumbledore and trying to crush the man with its weight, but with its feet mostly disabled it barely managed a minor flop. Dumbledore ran around it, still controlling the flames, to Harry.

 _You want to help me._

"I want to help you," murmured Harry, dazed and raising his wand to try to extinguish the flames. Next to him, Dumbledore did the same and the fire creeping up the beast eased as he reined it back. "I want to -" Wait.

He most definitely did not want to help Voldemort's Horcrux continue to live. "Professor!" he shouted. "Don't give in!"

The shout jolted Dumbledore out of it, but it was too late. With a roar, the cursed fire turned around in its path, raging towards Dumbledore and Harry. The Magnificent Beast had wrested control of the fire from Dumbledore during its last-ditch attempt at mental manipulation.

Dumbledore molded Harry's shield from earlier, extending it to form a barrier that would temporarily hold off the fire spirits. All of this he performed still with a blindfold.

"What do we do?" asked Harry.

"We must regain control," said Dumbledore. "But I am much too tired, mentally, to perform such a feat. You must do it, Harry, and confront Lord Voldemort's soul."

"How?" The meager shields of transfigured rock from debris were about to let the fire in.

"Look deep into the eyes of the flame, into the soul of the flame, seek out the rage which drives it, and discover its source."

"What do you mean -"

The fire ate away the last of the stone surrounding them, and the figures of flame reared back, poised to strike. Harry locked eyes with a flaming serpent, looking into it and farther, searching, deeper -

Destruction. An all-consuming fury, a burning passion -

And then Voldemort. Images from his past, from Tom Riddle's past, horrific, corrupt, vile ideas of all sorts twisted about in his head as the Horcrux battled him for control. It was winning, overwhelming him with hopelessness and despair.

Winning but for one thought: _You have sealed your own death, Tom Marvolo Riddle, by committing such atrocities. I will live on in my friends and the Order, in all that is good in the world, but you - complete and utter annihilation is all that awaits you. I am not the hopeless and despairing. You are. If I die, then when the eternity of existence finally consumes you, I will be there. Waiting. Triumphant. If you flee from Death, he will only flock to you all the quicker._

And then exhaustion. The flames returned to their original course, screaming up the veins and passageways of the Magnificent Beast, charring it from the inside as Harry and Dumbledore, who finally ripped off the blindfold, looked on, until finally the whole thing let out a shuddering sigh and slumped down. Harry, with the help of Dumbledore, eased down the flames until they vanished.

Then the Magnificent Beast exploded, and out came a glimmering gold object - Harry caught it by instinct, curling his hand around the Horcrux in victory.

Then he felt immense, unbearable pain and black spots danced across his eyes. He fell to the floor, gasping, and watched his hand begin to blacken.

 **A/N: I know you guys might be wondering why Dumbledore doesn't use phoenix travel. I decided that it's too OP. Accordingly, I did away with it - in CoS Fawkes entered the still-open Chamber of Secrets entrance and in OoTP Dumbledore apparated out. Ultimately, plot drives the world here, not the other way around. Also, if you liked this scene in particular, I recommend my other two stories!**


	22. 22: A Regrouping

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, and any content recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

"Harry!" exclaimed Dumbledore, who quickly took hold of the boy's dying hand and positioned it on the ground, before cutting it off and quickly cauterizing the wound with a burst of flame from his wand. But the wave of shriveled black continued up the severed hand, and, when it reached its full extent, appeared on his stump of a wrist.

"Hold steady, Harry." Dumbledore severed Harry's arm a little higher than the wrist now, and then reached into his robes and withdrew a vial. Uncapping it, he poured the potent basilisk venom on the now blackening portion he just cut off and muttered incantations under his breath. The black tide stopped, and Dumbledore quickly cleaned the new wound he had created.

"The venom managed to counter the curse contained within the ring," he said. "Had you worn it, I doubt you would still be alive - such vile magic as Voldemort has cast on this ring does not often spare its victims."

The wise wizard poured the rest of the vial of venom on the ring, watching it scream as the poison seeped into it, warping the gold around an inset stone. After watching the ring get destroyed, Dumbledore took the remains of it, carefully studying what little was left, before pocketing it and the now-empty vial.

"The hand will never grow back; such is the nature of dark magic."

Harry gasped as Dumbledore helped him to his feet. The two walked back to where they had entered and Dumbledore took a couple of minutes to demolish the stone which blocked the passageway.

"We must hurry. I doubt magic on such a scale went unnoticed in the Ministry, since they closely watch all Muggle areas known to have a history in wizard-Muggle crime. This event would have showed up on their radar."

They hastily made their way back to the deep shaft through which they had entered. The stairs had collapsed, heaped in a large pile on the floor, and Dumbledore quickly transfigured the destroyed wood into stone which he set into the passage from which they returned, closing it off.

" _Aguamenti,_ " he intoned, and a torrent of water burst from his wand, expanding and pushing out even greater quantities as time went on. He and Harry floated in the increasing well of water, slowly getting closer to the obstructed exit. Eventually, they reached the top, and Dumbledore muttered a spell which blew the entrance out. He and Harry staggered out of the shaft and collapsed onto the floor of what appeared to be the kitchen in the Gaunt Shack.

Harry no longer felt too much pain from the aftereffects of Voldemort's curse, and soon regained his breath. The two rose, but then Dumbledore motioned to Harry, stopping him from leaving the small house.

"There are people outside; we are restricted from apparating away."

"Who? Voldemort and his Death Eaters?"

"I believe it is Cornelius and his army."

* * *

When Fudge received reports of large amounts of magical activity near the town of Little Hangleton, which was placed on the Ministry's map of monitored locations practically ever since the Gaunts moved in, he knew something big was happening. Such amounts of magic could only really be attributed to Dumbledore. Accordingly, he gathered Greengrass and Malfoy, informed them of the situation, and had their divisions rush back out of Diagon and to the location. They quickly set up enchantments to stop Potter and Dumbledore from leaving and settled down to wait.

* * *

"Dumbledore! Potter! We know you're in there," came ringing the voice of the Minister for Magic through the air. "Submit peacefully and there will be no need for bloodshed."

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the water in the hole from which they exited, and with a gesture the water began seeping into the walls of dirt near the top. "You must distract them, Harry, until I have set up our escape."

Together they walked out of the shack and towards the main portion of the Ministry army; the rest surrounded them. "What do you want, Fudge?" asked Harry.

The Minister's eyes gleamed. "Harry James Potter, for high crimes and misdemeanors you are called to stand trial before the whole of the Wizengamot to explain your actions and receive your punishment for destabilizing our society so. Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore, you were in power too long, corrupting our great nation and weakening it with your influence - and your recent crimes mark you as a traitor to Magical Britain. Surrender or die as numerous spells hit you simultaneously."

Dumbledore did not reply, for his face was strained commanding all that magic.

"You want us alive to learn our secrets?" asked Harry. "You won't get anything from us."

"The Dementors of Azkaban would be disinclined to agree," spoke up Lord Greengrass. "No man can stand up to them for long."

Harry's eyes flashed. "You're one to talk of men, Lord Greengrass. And you too, Malfoy and Fudge." By this point Dumbledore's face was ashen. He just needed a few more seconds...

Fortunately, Fudge provided for them. "What's up with you, Dumbledore? Finally realized the full extent of your crimes, the truth that your story ends soon with the death penalty? Rebellion and sedition are not rewarded kindly here."

"I think you misunderstand, Minister," said Harry. "And I would argue - this is my opinion alone, of course - that the grand and high misdemeanor of incompetence is worse than what we two have done. But I think our time together has just ended, Fudge. Moral of the story? Act, don't talk ponderously for large amounts of -"

Spouts of water burst from the grass, each batting away the wands of the members of the BMA and temporarily blinding them. "Time," muttered Harry as he and Dumbledore broke out into a run, rushing away from the brunt of the army and pushing through the ring of wizards who had surrounded them. The witches and wizards under Fudge's command fumbled for a few seconds for their wands after the water died down, and cast spells in their direction, but Dumbledore levitated chunks of the earth and cracked trees to shield them while Harry fired blasting curses into the general vicinity of their pursuers. Considering that the now-alienated Greengrass and Malfoy controlled those divisions of the army, they were now officially enemies. Only Bones' division, which presumably had remained at Gringotts, could be trusted now.

Soon Harry and Dumbledore reached the far extend of the Ministry's anti-apparation enchantments and he latched on to the old wizard as they apparated away, spells flying close by.

* * *

Harry sat in the drawing room of Twelve Grimmauld Place, inspecting his hand - or rather, the lack thereof. The positive was that he hadn't lost his wand hand; the negative was that he could no longer use his left hand in anything. In particular, flying in combat was almost out of the question at this point, but maybe if the war ended he could try to be a one-handed Seeker, balancing himself on the broom with his wand hand and then, when close to the Snitch, sacrificing that for actually ending the game. It was definitely a huge hindrance, regardless - and the nature of Voldemort's curse, which Dumbledore had luckily managed to purge since it had only penetrated him on a physical level, as well as the nature of Dumbledore's treatment through basilisk venom meant not only that he no longer had a hand, but that it could never be properly replaced by magic like Voldemort had for Wormtail, although a mimic of Moody's peg leg might work, albeit crudely.

One hand for a Horcrux. Not a bad deal, really, considering the Prophecy and all. If he could give away his two feet and two legs as well as the rest of his left arm for five more soul pieces of Voldemort destroyed, he would - four Horcruxes and then, finally, the original soul.

Dumbledore had gone off somewhere to rest from the stressful events of the day, and Harry really couldn't blame him - they almost died at least a hundred times in that cavern, and then some more when fleeing from two thirds the might of Magical Britain.

The funny thing was, the BMA couldn't catch Order members except when they're off doing something like trying to recruit creatures or getting into fights with Death Eaters, and the latter rarely happened. So it was really a hundred to one or two, or equally ridiculous odds - at least some of the wizards were poorly trained and rushed through to meet deadlines. The purebloods of the Wizengamot never stopped to think about what the army would really be used for when pushing through the bill. That very purpose was to oppose Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but with the loss of his hold over Greengrass, the delicate balance of the army shifted towards the pureblood faction and not the Order's supporters. Now the army would be used to spread destruction and chaos throughout the world, reasserting Magical Britain as the great wizarding power. It was undeniable what was going to happen if he and Dumbledore didn't manage to stop Voldemort, or even allowed Fudge to drag this out for too long.

His plots seemed to be backfiring more than paying off these days.

* * *

Lord Voldemort sat in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor on top of a hastily-constructed throne. Lucius had redeemed himself well from his failure involving the destruction of the diary Horcrux by seizing control through political machinations a third of the magical army and securing for the Death Eaters another third through Greengrass, and his presence here was now seen as an honor rather than a punishment. The Malfoys were now the envy of the rest of his followers, not that he cared in the slightest for their pitiful attempts to gain his favor - beyond the fact that competition, usually, improved the quality of his Inner Circle Death Eaters.

Bones would be a problem, but killing her now would seem suspicious to some, considering her role as the only leader of a BMA division not biased towards the pureblood cause. Nor did it matter whether she lived or died at this point - she was effectively neutralized by Fudge of all people.

What truly concerned him was the report that had come from Lucius about Potter and Dumbledore escaping once more. The escape part did not matter - it was the location and amounts of magic which made him suspect one of his Horcruxes had been destroyed. Sure enough, when he checked on it after the BMA left the village of Little Hangleton, he found some of the charred remains of the Magnificent Beast and no ring. Dumbledore and Potter had used Fiendfyre, apparently, which was an unexpected development.

Voldemort would make no more Horcruxes - splitting his soul into seven parts, he had calculated, was the only tenable amount for immortality, whether or not some of the soul pieces were destroyed. Any further and he would likely destabilize his soul's anchor to reality. Instead, he would check on the locket, which he had hidden in a cave by the sea. The cup was unreachable in the depths of the Lestrange Vault and he doubted any could find the diadem - nor could he check to make sure it was still there. He had Nagini with him, and that accounted for all the pieces of his soul.

* * *

Sirius Black returned to Grimmauld Place with the letter the dupe Lord Parkinson had dropped off in a relatively anonymous location in the wilderness - letters by owl were now too dangerous. He quickly opened it up, and read what it had to say.

 _Important possession of the Dark Lord left with Malfoys and with Lestranges - evidence points to family vaults for each, after viewing in-manor artifact collections and snooping around - any more information draws suspicion._

The Horcrux left with Malfoy, of course, was the diary which Harry had destroyed at the end of his second year. But one with Bellatrix was news to Sirius. And it was in her Gringotts Vault, it seemed, which was currently inaccessible. Not to mention how incredibly pissed the goblins would be should he want something that wasn't his. The ironic thing was, the very same laws which had protected the Potter, Dumbledore, and Black accounts from seizure also prohibited Sirius from laying claim to the Lestrange Vault via Bellatrix Black's marriage into the Lestrange family. He and Harry would have to convince the goblins - who were already quite upset - to defy one of their laws, or at least vaguely reinterpret it, all without drawing Voldemort's notice, and all while not getting caught by the Ministry.

Or they could break in. That thought struck his mind more than once, though he immediately dismissed it each time.

 **A/N: Happy New Year!**


	23. 23: No More Games

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or associated works, and any content recognizable or otherwise. This work is not for profit.**

A girl dressed in black and green robes shivered as she hiked up through the snow past the village of Hogsmeade, dragging her belongings behind her. Once more, she cursed her father for being stupid, the war for existing, and Potter for being a bastard.

She had managed to sneak by her friends this Hogsmeade visit and get out here early enough that nobody would even notice her disappearance until later. Her mouth twisted. She would, naturally, be another victim of Potter's rage - her father would see to that, if nothing more. And she would be nothing if not stubborn with regards to Potter and his friends. For she was no fool - Potter meant to use her as a hostage of sorts, albeit contained within a gilded cage. Yet Potter had no control over Astoria, who she knew from her father was now engaged to Draco Malfoy; thus, he had no more power over the family than did the Malfoys, or, ultimately, the Dark Lord.

It was unfortunate that her father would attempt to align with the Dark Lord, but it was better than being with Potter, who by the shadow war's end would be dead, along with all his friends. And, earlier, the Greengrass family was going to go down with him. No longer. They were not pawns, they as a family were always the elites, the unmatched in political maneuvering - until Potter, which had been an... unexpected failure on two counts for her father. She was still angry about that mishap, but she was confident that as long as she wasn't killed in the crossfire, she could get out of this alive, by claiming to be forced into the arrangement. It was the truth, after all. And perhaps she could access the Potter vaults from those wretched goblins after her husband passed away, and she would even be rewarded for the effort.

No, she decided, this would not be a waste of time at all. On the contrary, she had much to gain by playing her part.

As she reached the top of the path, she peered into the dark caves in front of her. One, in particular, had a slight blue glow emanating from it. Walking hesitantly into it, and lighting her wand, she saw a Portkey near the back of the shallow cave. Dragging her trunk forward, she touched it and span away in a whirl of color and light.

* * *

Harry and Sirius were waiting right outside the front door of Twelve Grimmauld Place for Daphne to arrive. Then, suddenly, she appeared in a flash of blue.

Before the hidden Death Eaters on the opposite side of the street could do anything, he cried, " _Accio_ Daphne!"

The girl came flying across the ground, still dragging her trunk, and unceremoniously bumped up the steps, where she lay, still, before wearily opening her eyes.

"Is that how you treat your wife, _dear_ husband?" she asked, before noticing with a jolt a blank space where Potter's left hand should have been.

"Check her, and the trunk for any malicious items," muttered Harry to Sirius. "I'll go get Moody for a more thorough check." Then he vanished inside the building, without so much as acknowledging her presence. Not that she expected much more from him, anyways.

* * *

The rules for her were quite clear: don't leave the Order of the Phoenix - she'd expected something much more grand - Headquarters, don't talk of anything you experience in this building ever, do not disobey commands by Harry, Dumbledore, Moody, and Sirius Black, and do not attempt to kill anyone or do anything against the best interests of the Order of the Phoenix, which, really, meant to stay out of their way.

These only applied as long as Harry was alive, of course. So if the Dark Lord, perhaps, killed Harry, then she could reveal all of the Order's secrets. Yet it seemed that Harry and Sirius didn't care about that potential eventuality, as if they were _arrogant enough_ to believe they could stand up to the Dark Lord - of whom her father dared not even _mention_. Or perhaps Potter didn't care what happened after he died - but why? Nothing here made sense.

Sirius quickly briefed Harry on the possibility of there being a Horcrux in Bellatrix's vault.

"But the goblins are barricaded behind the BMA, in the middle of Diagon Alley - there's no way we can even get close to Gringotts, let alone convince the goblins to let us into even Gringotts, or in the best case Bellatrix's vault. Nor can we get close enough to attempt a theft - it'll be more like an _assault_ than a break-in, and even Quirrell with Voldemort's helped barely managed to get in and out before the goblins attempted to retaliate. And to top it all off, I already spent my favor with Gringotts getting Parkinson under our folds."

"Wasn't that a mutual benefit agreement?"

"Not anymore. With the way things are going right now, I'd reckon the goblins will claim they aren't getting a profit or something ridiculous; they only help you as long as they think they can make money off of you, after all."

"Really? I thought you had a good relationship with whatsit - Bashskull?"

"Trust me; I've talked to Bill about this, and he's worked with the goblins for a long time. They are trustworthy as long as you're the only one who can help them. I'd guess they don't like Fudge that much, but they're probably balancing the line between me and Voldemort. Try to get into that vault, and they might just inform Voldemort, and be rewarded for it. We've got to be _very_ careful about how we get that Horcrux," said Harry.

"We could probably get past the BMA, actually, since Bones is in charge."

"She has to do her duty, and has many perhaps disloyal men among her division. Not to mention, ordinary people will notice if _Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore_ walk up to Gringotts and try to break in."

"Well, I'll tell Dumbledore about the situation next time he drops by, and we'll think of something."

"We have to," murmured Harry. "If not for the fate of future generations, then we must figure this out for the fate of present." He looked up sharply. "Get Greengrass in here, and teach her how to defend herself from attack. Nothing more, since there's no point, but we can't just leave her vulnerable should Grimmauld ever fall."

"You're suggesting that _Dumbledore_ might die, and weaken the Fidelius."

"He and I almost died retrieving the ring Horcrux," said Harry, holding up his stump. "He's not as invulnerable as we'd all like to believe."

* * *

The dark figure appeared silently in the grassy meadow. After walking slowly up a slight hill, he stopped at the edge of a cliff which jutted out into stormy waters far below. The light of the half-moon illuminated the otherwise dark waters below which incessantly crashed against the cliff face above which he stood. He scanned the waters, looking for a telltale sign...

He spotted an unnatural, still blackness around which the blacks and whites of water and moon thrashed. With a swirl of his cloak, he disappeared and reappeared below, facing a dark cave within the cliff face itself. He walked forward slowly, almost leisurely - for there was nothing to fear of his own creations, his own defenses. This was a cursory check, nothing more - and then he would be on his way.

As he drew closer to the inner sanctum he knew was approaching, he finally lit his wand, lip curling in distaste as the white light which blasted forth illuminated - no, ruined - the sinister features within. Rocks littered the floor, and long, sharp stalactites hung from the ceiling, as if waiting for the perfect opportunity to detach themselves from their perches and impale unsuspecting victims beneath. Not that any person could find this locale, not since he had hidden away one of his greatest treasures here...

He reached the door, and placed his hand against it. It opened up without a sound; had a foe attempted entrance, he would have needed to submit his blood. There was no trace of blood here, his magic told him.

But something stopped him. He could smell it, something faint, on the edge of his conscious...

It was likely the Inferi. He had murdered hundreds and raised from the dead thousands further with barely a thought and deposited them here. Doubtless many of them would have begun to shed blood by this point, not that they required blood to function.

Walking purposefully across the lake shore, he came across the boat. Pulling it from its hidden location, he got into it and pushed off from the shore. The eerie green light at the center of the cavern came closer and closer, and his pets beneath swam by every once in awhile, clearly agitated by the presence of someone in the boat. They were quickly pacified by his magic, though, recognizing their master, and when the boat hit the center island, he disembarked and walked up to the central basin. Inside was the locket; his work was done.

Yet... something compelled him to investigate further. There was no clear presence of his soul, despite the locket looking absolutely perfect. He put his hand to the basin, and, murmuring some obscure incantations, allowed the potent liquid within to temporarily vanish. No Inferi rose from the inky black depths of the cavern, since they recognized him for who he was.

He lifted up the locket from the bottom of the basin, and knew immediately that it was a fake. Quelling the mounting fury within him, he opened the locket and read the mocking note inside, seething.

R.A.B... "BLACK!" he screamed, extinguishing the light of his yew wand and wildly swishing it around. The magic in the air became palpable, and the Inferi became agitated. There would be no more games. This meant war. Pointing the wand directly at the ceiling of the cavern, he took flight, directing himself upwards. The Inferi beneath rose out of the water, levitating, and following him in his fury. With a snarl, he blasted the ceiling into two massive pieces, and following the widening crack up towards the surface. The Dark Lord Voldemort shot up through the meadow upon which he had, only minutes prior, been standing, and watched in delight as the entire cliff sheared off from Britain. Stabbing his wand downward, he directed its path with even more force than it had before and the entire large chunk of the island crashed into the sea below, generating huge waves which he poured his magic into.

His work here done, and, his Inferi army floating and landing on the earth underneath him, he directed them to cause as much damage as possible to all Muggle sentiments as they made their way across the island towards Hogwarts school. Then he shot off towards London, towards the house between Eleven and Thirteen Grimmauld Place, casting as many destructive charms as he could at the earth below.

* * *

 _BREAKING NEWS: Officials confirm link between 'artificial tsunami' and terrorist attacks_

 _British officials on Sunday confirmed a link between the recent destruction of southern England and the unexpected tsunami which killed thousands of French in the port city of Calais._

 _The tsunami on Friday, caused by the collapse of a shelf of rock into the English Channel, was a subject of much debate among scientists. "There is simply no way it could have formed naturally," said renowned geologist Dr. Martin Sheffer to Global News United reporters about the incident. "The cliff, for one, was solidly attached to land, and the conditions would've had to be perfect, since the water was nearly too shallow to generate a wave as powerful as it was."_

 _His statement comes among calls for more funding for warning systems of disasters of all sorts, including the new sort of eco-terrorism seen here._

 _An official who wished not to be named told GNU that the government was "looking into known terrorist groups such as the Armed Islamic Group of Algeria who have motive to target either Britain or France, although the destruction of major factories around the south of Britain cannot rule out the potential of Communist subversive groups."_

 _GNU representatives contacted the Prime Minister of the UK after the announcement, but have not received a reply._

 **Edit: Thanks to Philosophize for pointing out a formatting error; I was rushed when posting and other documents don't transfer over well.**


	24. 24: Horcrux the Third

**Disclaimer: The same.**

Harry's scar burned sharply as he felt the full force of Voldemort's anger. "Ah!" he cried, putting his hand up to his forehead.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Sirius, obviously concerned for his godson's health.

"It's Voldemort. He's - he's _angry_. He's -" The pain became too much and the world turned black.

Harry woke up to huddled faces around his bed. "I'm alright, I'm fine," he assured them, waving them away and sitting up, leaning against the headboard.

"Voldemort's been on a constant rampage since evening," informed Moody. "There have been reports of Inferi ransacking villages and towns on their way north, and Voldemort's still on his way towards London. Why he doesn't apparate, nobody knows."

Harry looked out the window. It was still night. "He's headed towards London? But what's in London? He certainly can't break the Statute of Secrecy -"

"From the way things look, it's already been broken, Harry," interjected Lupin. "He doesn't seem to care any more, which is strange."

Harry winced as his scar tingled once more. "So then, what's he headed for? The Prime Minister's office? Is he going to try to -" he couldn't even fathom the possibility - "negotiate with the Muggles?"

"There's no way he'd do that," pointed out Tonks. "More likely, he's out for St. Mungo's or Diagon Alley. Maybe even Gringotts."

"But then he'd reveal himself to the whole of the Wizarding World! I thought his strategy was to make us suffer by remaining hidden!"

"Technically, the only person who's confirmed that it's actually Voldemort is me," said Moody. "Fudge can pretend it's a rogue warlock from Eastern Europe, or something, and bury his head in the sand as he always does. If it's not a British wizard, then it's not his fault - nor his problem."

Harry looked at the people surrounding him, then frowned. "Where's Dumbledore?"

Sirius shrugged. "We haven't seen him since you returned from your... expedition."

Just then, Kingsley burst into the room. "Sorry to disturb your rest, Harry, but you all need to know: I've been watching Voldemort's progress, and he's not headed towards Diagon Alley _or_ St. Mungo's. I can only conclude -"

Harry's scar once more began to burn furiously. He clutched his head, moaning, and Sirius rushed forwards to support him as he collapsed. "He's here!" shouted Harry. "Voldemort's here!"

Just then, the entire building rocked, and Harry watched the house outside his window, Eleven Grimmauld Place, shudder and crack as a barrage of spells impacted it from above. A dark figure landed on the street, and turned to face directly at Harry's watching gaze.

Voldemort's snake-like face curved into a smirk, and then he set that entire house on fire.

"The Fidelius will protect us, to some extent, from external harm," said Moody.

"I hope it's enough," muttered Tonks.

"The problem is the Muggles. Voldemort's not going to spare a single one, and he'll try to trade their lives for Harry's," said Kingsley. He muttered a spell and cursed. "Death Eaters are arriving every five seconds, and they're surrounding the building. Let me try to contact Albus." With that, he rushed out the door, casting a silvery Patronus as he did, and the lynx flew through the ceiling and away.

"Well, shoot."

* * *

Lord Voldemort strode up and down the street, every once in awhile throwing out a spell to demolish yet another Muggle building, and watched his Death Eaters encircle the empty space where he knew the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters lay.

"Remember," shouted Bellatrix Lestrange, who stood by his side. "Let no magic go in, or out of the building! Destroy everything they dare send our way!"

"My Lord," said a Death Eater, walking up to the pair. "The Floo has been taken down, and no person can apparate or disapparate within a mile's radius. Portkeys, as well, do not work within this distance."

The Dark Lord did not respond, but rather merely slightly inclined his head. The Death Eater bowed deeply and returned whence he came.

Just then, a silvery Patronus, a lynx, burst through the ceiling. "Destroy it!" she screamed at the Death Eaters circling the place on brooms. As one, they drew their wands and cast purplish and dark black curses at the figure, but it danced and weaved through their barrage, and the few spells that did clip the figure of pure magic barely hampered it.

Voldemort drew his wand. "I will deal with it."

"Yes, my Lord," said Bellatrix.

He rose into the air and shot towards the escaping Patronus. It was nearly at the edge of the established boundaries of the wards, where it could easily escape and inform the fool Dumbledore of the current situation. That would not do. As he accelerated towards the silvery figure, he moved his wand in a loose circular shape, and cast. A massive black mist shot out of the tip of his wand and separated into threads which entwined themselves around the now struggling animal. As he caught up, the threads began to dissolve, and the lynx broke free of the oily black bonds, making a break for the ward boundary. But the Dark Lord reached first, and plunged his wand into the silver light of _pure love_. His lip curled in distaste.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" and the lynx exploded in a whirlwind of white, silver, and green. There would be no help coming to these pitiful excuses of wizards and witches.

As he touched back down on the ground, Voldemort noticed something odd about one of the partially destroyed houses across the street from the Order's Headquarters. Blasting aside rubble and hanging wooden beams, he came across the source of light and sound. It was a television - he remembered the black and white monstrosities from the orphanage, and apparently the Muggles had improved since then - blaring out the news.

"The Prime Minister has refused to comment on the mysterious destruction of much of southern England, as well as the recent reported explosions in London, as a new wave of attacks appear to the north. Witnesses described -"

The Muggle reporter paused, as if in disbelief.

"- some sort of undead figures, what they called, I quote, 'zombies,' rushing through towns and destroying everything in sight, before continuing to head north. The few that police managed to shoot continued, unaffected. For anyone just tuning in, I repeat -"

A quick Lumos flare shorted the device, and the screen went black. The Dark Lord walked back out of the house. "Dolohov. I am sending you to... resolve the Muggle situation."

"Yes, my Lord." The man bowed deeply, then mounted a broom. When he had exited the wards, he apparated straight into Number 10 Downing Street.

* * *

Dolohov entered with a sharp crack, slightly muted so as not to draw too much attention from the Muggle guards. " _Immobulus_ ," he cried, as the man in the portrait attempted to flee and contact the Minister for Magic. Next he cast " _Muffliato_ ," before pivoting precisely as two Muggle guards burst in, already firing gunshots.

But Dolohov had prepared for this, and he fired two more spells. The guards dropped dead as the green impacted their chests, and the bullets they had died to fire embedded harmlessly in his dragonhide vest. He turned.

"You're a wizard."

"Of course I am, filthy Muggle."

"You will not get away with this. The terrorist attacks, the explosions in London, it was all you, wasn't it?"

"Yes. You will not defy Lord Voldemort's demands. You will keep your government, and every other Muggle government out of our conflict, and out of our world. In return, we do not destroy you."

"Why?"

"Because if you do not -" here Dolohov paused and tried to recall the phrase his Lord had told him to recount to the Muggle Minister - "Your... nuclear weapons will all launch straight up into the sky and detonate. Your population will suffer. We will not."

The Prime Minister grew horrified. "You can't - certainly there is no way -"

Dolohov laughed slowly. "We can kill with but a spell." He nodded at the guards lying spread-eagle on the ground. "We can vanish things with a flick of our wand." With a swish, the entire desk in front of him disappeared. "And we can control a man with nary a thought."

He leaned forward. "Do you think us incapable, or too stupid to work your own weapons against us? We have hid for centuries. Before that, we ruled for millennia. We are the true masters of this earth, not you. And under no circumstance are you to aid, abet, or take orders from Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, or any member of the Order of the Phoenix."

He cancelled all the charms he had cast with a flick of his wand, except for the ones with led to the two dead bodies on the floor, and Antonin Dolohov disappeared as he had appeared just minutes ago, leaving the Prime Minister to wonder how he should break the news to his allies, and to the rest of the world leaders, not to mention the public - who, from the reports of the undead walking the streets, would not be pacified by a made-up story this time. These incidents were no gas leaks, they were acts of a highly organized terrorist organization - or worse, the legitimate government of the magical world. He picked up the instrument which connected him to the Minister for Magic and smashed it on the floor, crushing it under his boot. Perhaps Fudge would show up, then, and explain just what the problem was.

Back outside Twelve Grimmauld Place, Voldemort was still standing in the street, contemplating the best way to get the locket from Potter and Black without admitting that it was a Horcrux. Potter knew what the Horcruxes were, and therefore could not be trusted. Suddenly, he recalled the filthy servant of Regulus Black's, the house elf who had also helped them set the Ministry trap for Potter - what was his name?

"Bellatrix."

"My Lord?"

"The elf. What was his name?"

"Kreacher, my Lord."

"Call him."

Inside, Harry and the rest scrambled when Kingsley reported that his Patronus was intercepted, that the Floo was down, and that apparation and Portkeys both did not work. Suddenly, he remembered the presence of his... wife. "We need to inform Daphne of the problem, so that she can -"

"I'm right here," she said, from higher up on the stairs. "What were you thinking, Potter? That you could use me as a meat shield?"

"No, I just wanted to make sure that -"

"Save it," she snapped.

Then Kreacher burst in. "Traitorous Master!"

"What?" asked Sirius, already at his wits' end. "Well? Get on with it."

"Kreacher is getting a summoning."

"Well, at least you didn't go gallivanting off like last time," muttered Sirius. "It's good that we restricted his freedom," he remarked to Harry.

"Who's calling?" asked Harry.

"Mistress Bellatrix, oh how Kreacher wishes he could be at her side."

Harry thought for a second, then made up his mind. "In a bit, we will let you go, but you must report immediately back to us.

When Kreacher had returned, he recounted his instructions to Harry and Sirius. "Mistress Bellatrix be needing a locket for the Dark Lord. Mistress promises he'll destroy it, she does..."

Harry and Sirius looked at each other meaningfully. "He won't," spoke up Harry. "He wants to keep it intact, because it's important to him. Give it to us, and we can destroy it."

Sirius looked at Harry. "I'm not sure we can, actually, at the present moment. Fiendfyre is too risky."

"Dumbledore must've left some basilisk venom here," said Harry. "In the cellar, perhaps."

To the mystification of the others who were watching, they rushed down a hidden flight of stairs to the sequestered basement, and a quick check found the venom they needed hidden behind some musty old barrels and other dusky horrors, a legacy of at least five hundred years of pureblood supremacy within the Black family.

"Harry?" asked Sirius before they ascended the stairs back.

"Yes?"

"I have an idea that we could use to hurt Voldemort and stall him long enough to escape."

"What is it?"

Sirius quickly told Harry his plan as his godson nodded along.

"It's workable," said Harry. "We'll have to tell Moody, Kingsley, Lupin, and Tonks, though, but we can hand-wave about the Horcrux. Although, to be honest, at least Moody and maybe Kingsley should get to know about the Horcruxes."


	25. 25: Horcrux the Fourth

**Disclaimer: The same. Sorry about the delay.  
**

The ratty house elf of the Black family popped into existence as a flurry of wands rose and pointed straight at him. He lowered himself to the floor, groveling.

"Great Master, Kreacher has brought the locket."

"Show me," said the Dark Lord, as his Death Eaters watched in fascination, wondering what would be so important that their Lord would even deign to speak to a house elf.

Kreacher unclenched one hand and within lay a smooth, silver locket with an insignia of seven intertwined snakes spiralling out from the center. Voldemort stretched out his left hand and the locket flew into his grasp. He held it up to the light, examining it.

"It is real," he declared. He turned to his followers. "Perhaps a bit of explanation is in order, my dear friends."

He drew himself up as Nagini began to move up his body and coil around his torso.

"A thousand years ago, four of the greatest witches and wizards ever to grace these hallowed lands -" he looked down disdainfully at the cold concrete street upon which he stood "- met. Theirs was a dying kind, a noble race succumbing to engaging in the perils of the flesh with their filthy, subservient, counterparts. That same ungrateful lot saw the rich harvests which us, magicians, produced, saw the cleanliness in which we lived - much differing from the squalor those pigs chose to live within -, and saw the awesome power our ancestors wielded. They sought to destroy us, my friends."

Kreacher continued to tremble as he lay prostrate upon the ground.

"They sought to educate a new generation, to mold leaders as great as they. These wizards four - Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and my mighty ancestor, Salazar Slytherin.

"Helga was peaceful, Gryffindor bold, Rowena intelligent, and Salazar cunning. Ambitious. Strong. All four recognized the base evil of the Muggles. Each saw their spread as dangerous. Even Gryffindor himself -contrary to what the old fool would have you believe - detested those vile pests. Men of a nonmagical breed, doomed from birth to hunt us down and exterminate us, even as we provided for their miserable existences! Ungrateful beasts!"

"But Gryffindor would let in Muggleborns. He would let in the spies of the enemy, welcome those who look him in the eye even as their friends stab him in the back. How different we would be if only he was _brave_ enough to recognize the truth!

"But hate him not, my friends, for he was simply misguided. But our great old fool of a Headmaster was not. He knows the danger of the Muggles, yet he continues to suffer their existence. Why, my friends, why? It is simple. He believes they are just as honorable as us - _they_ , thieving, dishonest scum.

"But I, and Salazar before me, recognize the threat. Gryffindor did not, alas. The very symbols of our tainted race he would open the floodgates to, and let into our sacred school! This must end, and it begins today. Even as our army of undead and indomitable creatures marches towards the north, even as the Muggles now know unequivocally that their worst nightmares always existed, always lurking, waiting in the shadows for the moment to strike, waiting among our great wizarding society for the day when we no longer could tolerate the encroachment of the Muggles. It is inevitable, you see. The Muggles have nearly reached the point where they will detect our existence. We must halt them before they unleash genocide upon us all. They sneer and scorn those among them who kill each other en masse, but have no compunctions and no qualms about murdering our children.

"See the poor wizarding child from Bristol whose Muggle mother strangled him when she learned he had powers of the occult! His father, the wizard, killed her, and learned from his utter mistake. Indeed, Dolohov, you have been a faithful servant.

"Today Antonin here -" the man bowed low "- delivered our first ultimatum to the Muggles. They will not interfere, they will not think of touching us, and they will keep their great crowds who seek to lynch us at bay. For if they do not, we shall turn their advanced weapons -" Voldemort snorted, shaking his head "- against them, and they shall die the deaths they deserve. But if they do not, then we shall secure the Wizarding World from the likes of Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, and then we shall deal with the great Muggle threat.

"This locket is more than a mere artifact of my ancestor's days upon this earth, upon _our_ earth. It represents my will, the will of the noble Slytherin line throughout the ages and now these seven snakes shall be a symbol. A symbol of our dominion over the world, over seven continents and seven seas. And above it all, we shall raise Atlantis once more, create a paradise on earth. All this will happen when our opposition has been eliminated.

"For I - I am immortal. I am invincible. I am unstoppable. Never matter the obstacles, the prophesied children the fool Dumbledore throws at me and at our cause. They can never win, for I can never die. Harry Potter, who as we speak languishes within the building there, will fall! Dumbledore will die a quick death without his child soldiers to fight behind! And the symbol of my ancient ancestor will be emblazoned upon our robes, upon the robes of every witch and wizard of the new generation! And the Muggles, those filthy beasts, shall be marked with this sign and forced to work as our slaves in recompense for the terrible crimes they have committed against us. Then we will stop them from breeding any more, and the blight that is the nonmagical race, that ridiculous accident, shall be no more.

"And now," he said, turning towards the space where he knew Twelve Grimmauld Place was, "we shall wipe out the first opposition to our plan. On my mark!"

The Death Eaters rose their wands in unison, pointing them at the building. " _Fiendfyre!_ "

Several arcs of roaring flame leapt towards the meager protections, which would, along with the Fidelius, soon fall. It would be just as he had calculated.

The flames rose higher and higher, and Voldemort grinned in satisfaction. "See! See the power of wizardkind! Destroy all who oppose our lead!"

* * *

Everyone inside the house, in the meantime, were hurriedly gathering brooms that they could ride out.

"We need to go before he finishes that monologue!" urged Harry. "He'll take quite some time, but when he's done, he'll focus his full efforts on us."

Harry, Sirius, and Kingsley each took their own brooms - Harry his Firebolt. Lupin and Tonks shared a broom, as did Moody and Daphne ("You'd better not try any funny business, missy.").

Apparently Moody had a soft spot for the defenseless. And indeed, Daphne was only a little better than mediocre when it came to Defense Against the Dark Arts and the like. She was more of a political entity like her father.

Speaking of whom, Harry'd need to have a long talk with Lord Greengrass, a conversation which preferably ended with only one person leaving the room. And it would not be a leader of the BMA.

They mounted their brooms in the top room of Grimmauld Place just as it seemed that Voldemort was marshaling his troops to attack. As flames began to assault the building and rise higher, Moody, Shacklebolt, Sirius, and Harry blew off the roof in a concerted effort.

They then shot off into the sky.

* * *

Voldemort perceived small figures on brooms rapidly leaving the roof of the building, which was now partially visible. The Fidelius was failing, but that was no longer important.

"My Inner Circle, to your brooms! The rest -" he gestured to them vaguely "- stay here, provide ground support, and follow any commands."

He turned and was about to rise up in flight, when he felt, rather than saw, a malicious presence surging up towards him.

As he turned, he witnessed several violent spells impact the small form of the Black family house elf, but it continued in its trajectory straight towards him.

In its other hand, the one which did not hold the locket, it was clutching a glass vial.

"Master Regulus!" it screeched, and Kreacher impacted the body of Lord Voldemort as the man swiped his wand, disconnecting the house elf's torso from its lower body.

Voldemort smiled; another foolish traitor had died.

But in the elf's dying moments, it had thrust down the vial against Voldemorts hands, and the delicate solution of basilisk venom and unstable solvents shattered against the locket, then exploded in acidic fury.

The acid melted the locket, which emitted a piercing screech, and splattered upon Nagini - still attached to Voldemort's chest -, who let out a drawn-out sibilant hiss.

The venom began to sizzle into the Dark Lord before he banished it without a thought.

"Potter!" He let out a raging yell and shot into the air, the bloody remains of a house elf left unnoticed and uncared for on the cold, concrete street.

Harry turned his head and saw the black-cloaked figures rising behind him and urged his broom to go faster - even though he was the leading one in the pack.

Then, suddenly, his scar burned bright and his broom slowed nearly to a standstill. "Ah!" The burn continued for a couple of seconds, then softened in its intensity. He could feel the Dark Lord's anger - more than double it was when he found out the locket was missing, but Harry held on to his sanity, this time prepared for the mental onslaught of Voldemort's fury. Then he accelerated again.

Unfortunately, his delay had cost him much. The others were in front of him now, and the Death Eaters were nearly on him, already casting spells and flashing lights through the air around him. He pivoted and dodged and rolled, attempting to throw them off.

But then a burning presence approached. Voldemort.

The enraged Dark Lord yelled and cast and pursued Harry in a frenzied burst of passion. Harry could barely keep ahead, dodging the vivid, deathly green as it literally _flowed_ around him.

They were near the edge of the apparition barrier now, and Lupin, Tonks, and Shacklebolt ahead of him Apparated away with their brooms and all. Sirius was waiting at the edge for him - they'd do a side-along. And Moody and Daphne were farther behind, the slowest of all of them. Harry and Voldemort had passed them in their deathly dance.

"Come on, Harry!" called Sirius.

"Extend the barrier," shouted Voldemort, evidently speaking to his men on the ground.

Harry reached Sirius before the barrier could extend, and he could feel the incipient stages of apparition kick in. But before it could complete, he and Sirius separated with a bang and Sirius vanished, leaving strange masses of flesh behind - mostly skin.

Sirius would not be able to return.

Then Voldemort began to exult, so much it flared up in Harry's scar. The barrier was extended; Harry was doomed. Now nobody, not even the reinforcements that Tonks and Lupin had undoubtedly called, could reach them.

Harry made a wide turn to avoid another fusillade of green curses.

Then, suddenly, Voldemort turned his head towards Harry and smiled - a terrible, maniacal smile.

"I see now why Greengrass shirked away until late from committing to the pureblood cause. But there shall no longer be even a sliver of doubt in his mind as to the correct course of action."

The Dark Lord gestured his wand and the broom holding Moody and Daphne split into two. Mad-Eye fell straight to the ground, landing in a bloody mess - he was dead.

But Daphne was on the back of the broom, and though broken, it still held them up. She began to slowly spiral down.

Voldemort began laughing in his characteristic cold, high voice, and raised his wand lazily at the slowly falling girl.

But Harry was already at the trough of his dive, and caught her as she fell. She settled on to the front of his broom as green streaks flashed by.

By now the main body of the Death Eater force was circling above and below them, practically surrounding them.

Voldemort floated towards them, almost languidly.

"Your time is over, Harry Potter. Your life is finished, your pitiful rebellion against the untouchable power of Lord Voldemort vanquished."


	26. 26: To Vanquish a Foe

**Disclaimer: The same.**

The flames in the Prime Minister's office turned an emerald green and deposited out a frazzled Cornelius Fudge. "What is it?" he asked. "I've got enough on my hands as it is."

The Prime Minister slowly rose. "I suppose you refer to the multiple incidents in the countryside, with Calais, and most of all, within London herself. I suppose you refer to the massive havoc caused in _my_ society, unwarranted damage, for no fault of our own. I suppose -"

"Yes, this is all very well. You cannot blame me for the actions of a very slight few! Dumbledore and his merry band of followers - Potter included - seem unable to accept that the Ministry has authority over Magical Britain, and are willing to slaughter innocents to prove their point! What can I do?"

"Mobilize whatever type of military you have. Track them down. And get one of your men over here so that I don't have to talk to your portrait every time I have a question about your incompetence."

"We've done the first, we're working on the second, and we can get you the third," said Fudge. "I believe I can assign one of my Aurors as not only a magical advisor but also a guard in case the radical belligerents make an attempt on your life. I'll send Shacklebolt... though I haven't seen him around in a while."

"One more thing. A strange man accosted me in my office, killed my two guards with a green light -"

"The Killing Curse," remarked Fudge grimly.

"- and told me not to support some Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore. Yet here you are, telling me that _they_ are the militants. What's going on?"

Fudge pursed his lips. "It may be possible that some former Death Eaters, who want to reshape society to their ideals, have started to attack you Muggles. Perhaps Potter and Dumbledore are not responsible for the mass killings - I don't see them keeping their followers long if they did that. But the point remains. Any non-official faction in this conflict is not to be trusted. They must be recommended by me or a direct underling in order for you to believe them. Understood?"

The Prime Minister nodded. "Understood. Now get out. You've caused enough problems already and I have two funerals to arrange." He glanced over at where the dead bodies still lay. "They were good men."

Fudge abruptly turned around and exited in a flare of green.

* * *

"So here we are again, Harry Potter," whispered Lord Voldemort. "Just you and I, and my friends, supporters, allies."

"Your servants," said Harry as loud as he could. "Your slaves."

"And an innocent who you so desire to protect," continued the Dark Lord, not acknowledging Harry's defiant response. "Yes," he continued, "you wish to save her. Sacrifice yourself for her, perhaps. Not love, as your mother used to protect you, but loyalty. Honor. Forthrightness. Shame."

Harry flinched. "You never should have been here," he muttered to Daphne. "I'm sorry."

"You never cease to amaze - and delight - me, Harry. You and I, we're old friends at this point. We know each other's jokes, each other's secrets, each other's foibles. You get away each time, but only by a hair and through others' sacrifices. Who will you sacrifice this time?" asked the Dark Lord, eyeing Daphne.

"She would prove a powerful lesson to my friend Greengrass, never to defy me again. I assume she was your bargaining chip against the man. I should have realized."

He laughed. "To think that the last bastion of the light use such dishonest tricks in an honorable fight! To think that Dumbledore would sanction such unwilling capture of upstanding pureblood heiresses by sons of Muggles."

"To think that your groveling followers would follow a son of a Muggle himself, not even a Muggleborn. The irony, no?" called out Harry boldly.

Voldemort grew quiet. "He dares, my friends, he dares. He dares sully the purest line of blood in wizarding existence, he dares defame the noble house of Salazar Slytherin! To even suggest that one of his house would lower herself to the level of a Muggle is ridiculous, Harry, quite laughable. And it does not do to let you continue to spew such lies.

"Why not have a repeat performance, Harry? You had such wonderful tricks the last two times we met before my friends. Let us duel, and decide who of us is truly great, not aided by chance and fickle fortune. Who is the true wizard between us two?"

"You have to promise your men won't try anything funny or try to cheat, or herd us in." Perhaps he could make a run for it.

"I will make sure they do not do anything to impugn the honor and integrity of this duel." Voldemort glowered at his Death Eaters, and they shrunk back. "And they will allow a certain amount of space between us two, but they will stop you if you try to get too far. We do not want you fleeing our fight."

Harry's heart sank. There would be no escape. "Let's do it, then, Tom!"

"I answer to no such name." Regardless, Voldemort raised his wand as Harry did the same.

" _Flammare_!" Harry started by aiming for Voldemort, but the Dark Lord merely jerked out of reach.

" _Malefice_!" The dark ball of energy gathering at Voldemort's wand expulsed and flew towards Harry and Daphne, forcing him to veer wildly as it followed him before dissipating.

Harry had no time to aim before the powerful wizard cast again. " _Fulminatus_!"

The arc of lightning spread from the tip of the Dark Lord's wand, branching out into the air in front and heading towards Harry, a large front of caustic blue energy ready to fry him as soon as it reached.

None of his training had prepared him for air combat. However, he had a significant advantage, being adept at a broom, although he had not expected to be carrying extra weight around. For her part, Daphne did little but clutch onto Harry tightly, so as not to fall.

" _Praetrunco_!" Harry countered with a sweeping curse which sped towards Voldemort in a large wave. The wizard brought his wand up and silently conjured a blood red shield which hummed. As it absorbed the curse the humming grew louder and higher in frequency.

Harry snapped off the curse a couple more times, overpowering the second one, and Voldemort elected to hold up the shield rather than move. The first made a powerful ringing sound, and the second, as it impacted, severed the shield in two, emitting a grinding screech, and Voldemort spat as he veered to the side. A portion of the curse, weakened by its impact with the shield, grazed the Dark Lord's arm, leaving behind a small trail of blood.

"You are lucky, Harry Potter, that I misjudged your raw power. But I am still more powerful, and I am the most skilled and talented wizard of the age!"

"You can't even cast real spells at me for fear of me winning the resulting duel of wills. You are weak, Tom Riddle, and forced to debase yourself to weak spells to get over your inability."

"These are not weak spells," said the Dark Lord, curling his lip. "They are powerful Dark magic, passed down through the ages. They are not my usual modus operandi, of course, but they suffice and more for my intended purposes. And as to your other point - _Expelliarmus_!"

Harry was ready this time and gripped his wand tightly, then cast a shield so that his wand, which began to shake, would not leave his hand. "You've got to do better than that, Tom!"

Voldemort gritted his teeth, then cast in quick succession. " _Expelliarmus_! _Avada Kedavra_!"

Harry moved his broom out of the path of the second spell then cast a shield to counter the first. "I could've blocked those if I wanted, with the brother wands and all, but I didn't even have to. You're pitiful, Tom, and unoriginal."

Dark beads gathered at Voldemort's yew wand, and the Dark Lord launched himself after Harry in a wild fury.

Harry aimed his broom for the sky and sped up towards the perimeter of Death Eaters who were watching the duel, then began to turn as he reached the upper border of the allotted dueling space. Voldemort accelerated behind him, taking a slightly lower path so as to cut him off.

"Do something!" urged Daphne, who up until this point had remained silent.

"I'm trying," said Harry. "It's not like we can just Apparate out of here."

He suddenly jerked the broom downwards, almost perpendicular, and crashed directly into the unprepared Voldemort. The wizard, in return, released the full force of his gathering Dark spell.

" _Tormentum_!"

The world faded into a transparent gray, and Harry could vaguely hear Daphne screaming behind him. Suddenly, he realized why, even as her yells and all sound faded. All around him were horrible, misshapen monsters - the revived corpses of his friends and parents. All this was pasted on top of his now faint perception of the real world, a reality from which he increasingly became dissociated from.

"You should've saved us," said a shambling Hermione.

"Yeah," accused Ron. "We were best friends. Before all this stuff happened."

Lupin appeared, a mangled mix between werewolf and man. "Greyback tortured me to death, Harry. What have you done in return for my loyalty?"

Then his parents approached him. His father opened his grotesque mouth first. "We never wanted a child who would lead to our death. You forced it upon us."

Then his mother approached him and made to speak.

"No. Don't say anything!" said Harry desperately.

"We never wanted -"

"No!" Harry focused himself, peered at the distant horizon which was his real world, and began to draw out of the miasma of guilt and fear. The sky became a brilliant blue and he could feel his broom underneath him.

Vaguely, he heard Voldemort say something, and then the world began to grow darker again.

"No." In his mind's eye he saw a world where the blight of Voldemort was vanished and where he could live in peace for the rest of his life. Sirius and Remus were there, as was Dumbledore. Hermione, Neville, Luna, Ginny, Ron were all there as well. Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, the adult Weasleys.

They danced and laughed and talked and slapped each others' backs, and in the center of it all, Harry gave a single smile of contentment.

" _Expecto Patronum_!" The world painted itself in sharp relief, the shadows of the misshapen monsters cast across the sky, then slowly dissipating into a gray mist. As he came to, he briefly heard Voldemort gloating, then turn to puzzlement. " _Avada Kedavra_!"

And then he was fully conscious once more.

Voldemort, it seemed, aimed to cut his losses. As the green nearly reached him, Harry suddenly realized that there was no way he could move in time, quite literally an inch from death. If only he had snapped out of Voldemort's spell earlier!

But then the silver stag which had formed and protected him from the Dark curse enveloped the green and as it burst apart, Harry could feel powerful magic tugging at him, breaking him down. The curse burrowed through the explosion of silver, aiming straight for his heart - but the Patronus reformed as a fragile, lone silver thread which connected with Voldemort's curse.

"Priori incantatem," whispered Harry as he pushed the golden joining back towards the middle.

Voldemort yelled in fury. "I will defeat you, Harry Potter!"

"Maybe if you hadn't stopped to gloat, Tom!"

The threads stopped moving in the middle, and the golden cage formed around them. "There is no way you can defeat me, Potter! I am stronger than you!"

As much as Harry tried, he could not advance his thread much further, though Voldemort was similarly stuck. They were in a stalemate.

He vaguely heard Daphne come to behind him. "What was - what was that?" she asked.

"Voldemort's curse. It made you see everything you fear come to pass."

"I saw..." she shivered.

"I'm kind of in a bind right now," gritted out Harry. "If you could give me some time, we'll talk later. If there is a later."

The Death Eaters by this point had circled nearer to the golden dome, nearly touching its fragile edge. "He is mine!" shouted Voldemort. "Near no further!"

They remained locked in position for a whole minute, sweat beading down both of their faces. Suddenly, Daphne spoke. "I have an idea."

Harry winced. "Don't be so loud. I'm trying to focus here."

She lowered her voice. "I could just draw my wand and hit him with a curse. It would be so simple."

"And have all the Death Eaters descend on us because we broke their prized laws of dueling? No thanks."

"I know the laws as well as you do; better, even," she said. "But we're going to die, otherwise."

"I can hold him off," insisted Harry.

"But can you defeat him, long enough to escape?"

Harry paused. "Yes," he stated.

"No, you can't." She drew her wand smoothly from a pocket in her robes.

"I'm telling you, Daphne, don't do anything! Put that wand -"

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

"Might as well use the most powerful spell there is if I'm going to attack," she reasoned out loud to Harry.

"Now you've broken our immunity."

The moment they saw the wand drawn, indeed, the Death Eaters began to swarm at the golden cage. Yet, surprisingly, it held firmly as a physical shield. Their spells did not enter within, only bouncing off the tensile surface, and any Killing Curses split apart a layer or two from the threaded dome, which as quickly reformed as it was destroyed.

"I guess you were right," muttered Harry.

The curse reached Voldemort, who shouted and moved to the side, simultaneously breaking the connection. Unconstrained by the wand threads, the unstable Patronus and Killing Curse combination exploded in a fiery ball of silver and green, reaching beyond the limits of the golden cage and blinding all those who looked on.

Luckily for Harry and Daphne, they had already turned around and were headed as quickly as they could towards the edge of the wards.

Behind them, they could hear Voldemort screaming. "Get them all! Kill the girl! Leave the boy to me!"

Harry risked a glance back, and could see the Death Eaters reforming with Voldemort at their head, a black spear amid the startlingly blue sky. They were gaining, and spells began to fly by, but one wide dive and the spells began to miss their mark.

Then they passed the magical barrier, felt the cool rush which signified its departure, and Harry grabbed a hold of Daphne before twisting away into a gray vortex of magic.


End file.
